The Coiled Splendour
by Superwitch
Summary: ELRIN AND SEVERUS SNAPE OF SLYTHERIN. Snape/OC. A strange woman finds herself at Hogwarts, and Severus Snape is suspicious, for he has something to protect.
1. somewhere over the rainbow

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

Elrin Danse is my own creation.__

Somewhere over the Rainbow 

Chapter one

She looked around her in disbelief, not moving her head, only her eyes. Who had moved her here? There she was, lying on the floor, looking up at the most beautiful black traced cabinets, circling round in front of her gaze, obscure objects glittering inside. They looked archaic, like something out of an old museum, but also cared for. She lifted herself up onto her aching arms and groaned aloud and realized that she had been holding her breath. Had she been drugged, or had she fainted? Well, at least it wasn't cold in here, wherever it was. There was an enormous stone fireplace by the side of her, and she could feel the blast of the burning logs hitting her face.  She would have been happy to sit there for some time but for an uneasy feeling. The last thing she remembered was that she had been in a shop, an old bookshop, reading instead of buying in a dusty, dim corner.

She knew that this place reminded her of something, but couldn't think what it was until she turned around to look at the whole room. Then it hit her as she took in the whole of the curved room: the painted portraits on the walls: steps snaking up towards countless shelves crammed with chunky books, stacked high above her. Although she had noticed portraits of men and women hanging on the walls, staring in her direction, her brain would not allow her to see them properly, as it was too busily scanning the rest of the spacious room. It had a further division at a higher level with an enormous heavy desk dominating the room with huge curtains and more books and gadgets and even more obscure objects. The place had a deep smell of books and wood polish and a odd sweetness she couldn't put her finger on.  

_……of course. But who had done this? Who could have brought her here?_

_This must be the movie set. _

It's very well done, even close up it had that solid, authentic look. Even to the faded carpet on the floor: which was circular rather than angular and wide enough to fit the room perfectly. Beneath her it spread itself out in soft, delicate colours, as if it had seen many hundreds of years, washed by the years from its original glory but still bearing the trace of a breathtaking civilization. A little dusty it was, to be sure when she raked her hand over it, but silky and in beautiful condition.  

_She must be in Elstree. In one of the many barn-like studios dotted around in Boreham Wood – or 'Boring Wood' as Harrison Ford had quipped many years ago._

Could be handy, because she had a friend who lived here.

_Perhaps they did this? For a joke she supposed. She hadn't seen them for years though. Well, it is a pretty good one. Perhaps it's one of those hidden camera shows. They'd set her up.  Perhaps she could go there and stay the night if she couldn't get back home._

She decided to get up and have a further look. How long must she have lain there, because she was a bit stiff. Looking at her watch, she discovered it not there and groaned again. Where the hell had that gone? As she straightened up, she heard a movement behind her and stood absolutely still. It was a sort of shuffling, odd noise, not loud, not frightening, just casual, a sort of scratching. 

Turning round quickly she came face to face with a puppet. Well, a moving puppet – on a perch.

"Ah," she cried, delighted. "Let's have a look at you then" and rushed to examine this stuffed bird. The stuffed bird looked at her askance.

"Very real, excellent." she said grinning.

"Thank you very much" it replied, blinking quietly.

Naturally she jumped. And then laughed, looking for the mechanism, stroking the feathers. Warm feathers. This was a warm body. Uh oh. She gradually and slowly removed her hands, keeping her eyes on the bird.

_Perhaps she could make it out of the door. _

She was about to head for it, when the puppet spoke again.

"Perhaps you might find it worthwhile to stay a little." Fawkes said, coyly.

"Er, I'm not sure what is going on here." She said, speaking more to herself and the room, half-eyeing the gentle movement in the pictures above her, and the soft sounds of the now sleeping portraits.

That's digitally done and in a computer, not on set. Unless it's projected.

"We realize that you don't." 

"We?" She turned to the bird, whose ancient eye surveyed her sideways, it's tail feathers, incredibly long and gold, twitching slightly.

_Should she be afraid?_

"No need for fear I believe."

Now she was afraid. It could hear her. Unless she had spoken aloud without realizing it, noticing for the first time the gleam of many colours within the feathers, comfortable and graceful on its neck and back, like a quiet stream of some kind.  It's voice was soothing, flowing, a unique slow rhythm like a song.

What had she drunk?. Remember, remember. Before, in that café.  Nothing but water that she could remember. Who had access to it? Who the devil is behind this? She'd murder them when she got hold of them.

She'd like to think it was a dream, but she had studied dreams too long to believe that this was one.  She thumped the cracked heavy leather chair arm beside her.

"Feel better my dear?" came the bird.

"Who has done this? "She frowned, trying to look tough, her eyes close to his beak. 

Very well made, really. And she is asking this dummy for information?

She paced over to the fire. 

"You have." Came the reply quietly.

Suddenly feeling angry, she quickly ran over to the heavy curtain at the other end of the room and jerked it aside. Well, she tried, it was so heavy –and soft, and was a very beautiful green. It cascaded down from the ceiling and hung there silent, with nothing behind it. It was like a very old memory. Like childhood. It tugged at her memory but brushed it aside, impatient.

There must be a microphone somewhere.

"What do you mean – I have? Don't be ridiculous. I was brought here – unconscious."

Perhaps it's underneath this table.

The dummy continued. "Your desire brought you here." 

"Unless…"

"Go on" 

 Fawkes swayed on his perch, as if considering deeply.

"Unless you count – your destiny bringing you."

"This isn't Star Wars, Fawkes" she said, realizing that she had called him by name and felt completely stupid and more frustrated by the minute. She pulled her fingers through her hair, and then wiped them down the sides of her slim leather skirt and prepared for further searches. 

"Star Wars?" he said puzzled. 

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, and when I get my hands on you…."

"You may lay your hands on me at any time Elrin".

"Don't call me by that." Her hands didn't know where to search for the microphone, in fact, they had begun to shake a little. Silly. Must be a drugged effect. "no-one knows that name."

"Well," the bird replied, "I obviously do"….and pitched its head annoyingly to the side.

"Did I talk while I was out cold?"

"You were cold? We thought you would be fine by the fire."

_There's that We again._

"Is there no proper light in this place?" she said, her heart beginning to like this less and less. Yet she was in an extraordinary place, well, fake maybe, but haunting. They must have spent an absolute fortune on the set. 

_Of course speaking to a stuffed phoenix might be affecting her judgement. _

There were one or two medieval-style torches on the walls illuminating the place and they were real enough and she was beginning to notice deep dark shadows at the edge of the room. It was getting darker. This was not funny anymore. She headed for the door, hoping against hope that it was not locked. 

"It isn't locked" came the gentle bird voice from behind her. 

"Thanks" 

"But going out of it will not solve your problems."

"Being here is my problem."

"I think not, my friend."

"What do you know of my problems, anyway?" she turned back to face Fawkes, irritated but forcing calm.

Maybe he will give her a clue if she let him gibber away. 

"You may find yourself." 

Despite the warmth in the room, she felt a quiver of a chill – cool but not frightening. Stimulating perhaps: like the call from a minaret over a wide desert, a sun setting in the dusk, and a rash of stars in a darkening sky.

"Philosopher are you?" Greek studies perhaps?

"Yes, yes, Greek, Sanskrit, some Arabic and Hebrew to boot. Sanskrit is my speciality though, since it is distinguished by being the most ancient."

"Very funny."

The bird just looked down at his broad eagle feet and studied his claws as if they were toenails. 

"I - wouldn't look round at this very minute, " the bird spoke quieter still, "but there is someone standing behind you," The warning in Fawkes' voice made her freeze and not turn around. She could hear the swish of some heavy smooth textile, a jerky impatient sound. What was she going to see? Some stupid kidnapper with a clumsy balaclava over his head holding out some kind of - sheet? Was she going to have to fight off an attacker? She stared at Fawkes, and kept herself deadly still, ready to defend herself. Fawkes however, continued as if whoever it was, was not there and listening.

 "who you may find changes your life and with whom you may live your destiny."           

_Oh yes, and this person is her soul mate? Yea, right. So this is where this abduction was heading, leading up to it, very original she'd give them that. _ 

Her mouth was dry and her hands suddenly sweaty, and she spun around fast. And nearly collapsed right back to her place on the floor. Standing half in and half out from the shadows of the wall behind was a tall black haired man in black school robes. She recognised who it was, though she had never met him. She recognized him all too well.  Her stomach descended fast, like on the adventure playground ride last summer with her friends. They had paused, high up in the jolting carriage, then gaped as they looked down at a black hole of death not able to stop what was going to happen and where time stopped, before plunging, screaming into the pit, their hands up, hair shooting behind. All her dreams and her nightmares, all thought, all inspiration, all wonder and failure and secrecy and wisdom and despair: all that she have ever known or felt or spoken or did seemed to coalesce into this one point of existence – staring at this figure before her. And he was staring back at her, his arms folded, as if Judgement Day had arrived.

"Er..hello, Mr.." but got no further as this tall, enveloping figure moved a little towards her, stopping only sufficient distance away from the shadows from which he seemed to have emerged.  She noticed the flop of his black hair and the white of his collar just peaking through the ……through the…..she couldn't think what the clothing was called. 

Oh great, brain evacuation, thanks a lot.

"_Professor_, if you don't mind" a deep voice growled. It must have vibrated through the dark furniture, through the door, through her bones and through her DNA. It sounded more like a threat than a polite correction.

Ah. Still in his part obviously. Of course he was likely to be here. Bit late in the day though she would have thought. She had already noticed dusk settling outside the latticed window. . 

"I, er, I " She couldn't get a word out. Closer to, his black eyes as a counterpoint to the white of his face, looked as if they were sharpening their knives as they prepared to stab her – to the floor no doubt, she thought, back to that carpet and the stones beneath.

Panic. Ok. This, is a good guy. Seems bad, but is a good guy. What are you talking about?, this is an actor for heaven's sake. A brilliant actor. A bit OTT though. It is amazing what can rush through your brain when faced with extremis.  She suddenly felt excruciatingly aware of the state of her body. Her hair must be a mess after today's events, but was suddenly glad she had washed it this morning, and was painfully aware of it's wild softness round her face. The fine cottony blouse she wore loose and untidily seemed a vulnerable skin and her feet shifted in soft leather boots. For a flash, she thought of her underwear and desperately threw it into the corner of her mind. Get a grip. Oh heavens, he is getting nearer again, his arms now at his side. Not pleasant. Well, scary. Right, ok. Time to get your dignity back.  

"Oh, what a surprise to see you at this time of the day." she said, too loud, but calm as if she were at a dinner party, and he was across the table. She cringed at her voice, wanting to flee, but was corroded to the spot by his eyes. It was more like meeting across an ocean. They were unstoppable, those eyes: black, deep apertures of time and space…And as if to see more clearly in the light, he stepped forward again, near enough to keep her from breathing heavily with any comfort in his presence. Before she knew what she had done, she had flung her hands up in front of her and could have sworn that she said something like:

_"Icendium"_ as a sort of gut reaction of defence and the dark figure froze, and so did she. Only he continued to be still. Seconds went by and he still remained oddly still. She could feel a line of sweat tracing its way down the middle of her back. Nothing happened. And still nothing. She turned to Fawkes who was idly picking at some nuts in his bowl. 

"Don't look at me Elrin". he said, without looking up.

She ignored his use of her secret childhood name, because of more pressing matters. 

"What is going on Fawkes?  He appears to be – sort of – frozen."

"That is correct"

"How come?" 

"Simple, my dear, you froze him. A little unwise I believe, but hardly surprising in the circumstances."

"Froze him. Right. 

"How come you weren't frozen then?"

"Ah. I think I'm a little too old to be magicked like that. Sorry."

She wasn't going to ask how old he was. Magicked indeed. Likely. 

She had seen statue-like guys in Covent Garden touting for money. Only - this one wasn't even breathing; he wasn't even blinking. She wondered for a second if she dared take his pulse. But there was no way she could touch him, although it was an ideal opportunity to peer at him closely, like observing a shark in a tank, or a huge carnivore behind bars. A sense of power crept through her mind, together with an uneasy sense of betrayal, which she shook off. She didn't have time for conscience.

"And how could I possibly have done this?" 

_Had she killed him? He was certainly not a projection, no way. Before this happened, he was quietly breathing, his voice close and there was a faint smell of leather and, a musky, male, hot ginger smell coming from him. She inhaled his scent like a vixen would her cubs, as if it could explain his mortality, his existence, his meaning, his power…._

"Well, you flung your hands up and wanted him to stop – which you did, and no, you have not harmed him."

"I couldn't possibly have done this" she said, circling the Professor slowly, very slowly, cautiously. 

"Sorry to disagree." The sound of nuts cracking behind her, she I found annoying for some reason, but continued her inspection. 

Where did that word come from? I- something. Never heard of it. Awesome he is, even iced-up, as if he could reach out at any moment and grab you and make you sorry. 

Of that she had no doubt. It was evident in his face, in his body, in his aura.

She noted the beautiful black robes, made of some extraordinary material and his fine linen shirt revealed themselves at the end of the long sleeves of his frock coat studded many buttons. Buttons the length of the jacket right up to his chin. She put a hand out to touch his chest, but decided not to.  His look was very _Byronic_. Coming round to the front of him she noted the strong single crease on his forehead and where a lock of thin hair had fallen over his large, patrician nose and the curve of his mouth. It looks like….him, but it isn't. How odd. This person is different. A stand in? Possibly. She had a sudden thought.

"Fawkes, how long will he stay like this?"

The bird made a stab for his water bowl. "any minute now. You don't have very long…"

A wild idea came to her, born of stress perhaps, and disorientation. 

_Of course, she could take his wig off.  THAT would prove her point.. That would stop him acting like this, being in part with an innocent member of the public, and a fan no less._

Quickly, before he came round, and aware of being significantly close to his body, she leaned up to reach his head, having difficulty with his superior height, but managed to grasp his fine, silky black hair with her fingers, and was just beginning to pull it, when a deliberate cough in the room her made her nearly topple the hapless Professor over.

A tall figure, dressed in more colourful, textured robes was standing in the higher part of the room, framed by a wall light. She recognized him immediately too. 

_Where the hell had he come from?_

Before she could explain he spoke calmly and reasonably.  "I think it would be advisable if you did not tamper with our Professor's attire - he can be a little touchy about his hair you know. " and soberly descended the few steps down to her level, his rich robes sweeping out behind him. She fastened her gaze on his wiry white beard cascading down to below his belt, and then followed it up to the deep smile in his eyes behind his half-moon glasses, making her feel stronger, more buoyed, more content than she had felt in a long time. 

_How long must he have been in make-up, having that beard attached_ – and _at his age too._

 Well, it was an honour, anyway, meeting with these two famous artists, one of whom she suddenly remembered, was unfortunately, still frozen. Suddenly without warning, without understanding how, she knew that the Professor would be moving any second now, and needed to get back in the same place where she immobilized him from, or he would know.  And she really didn't want him to know.  She dashed back, smoothing her hair, stilled her unsteady heartbeat and faced him. 

_She was sure others would fare better, be calmer, not have the flush that she felt she had on her face but they were not standing here in front of this dark brooding presence looking for all the world as if he would take her heart out._

And the Presence graced us with it again. Silence in the room. They could hear the click, click of Fawkes' beak and she thought her breathing, shallow though it was, sounded as if it was echoing round the walls. Her legs were still functioning though. 

_Lucky me_. 

The Professor slammed open his dark eyes and shifted them, side to side, checking. He did not move at first, then lifted up to his full height, and she didn't think he could get any higher. 

_He couldn't loom further surely?_

"You did that." The simple statement fell into the silence and shivered there.

"Did er….?" More monosyllables, she cringed. What would he think of her? Couldn't she summon up an intelligent statement?

"I felt time shift," he snapped, "do not deny it." His breath swept by her hair and his face looked like a hungry wolf with pups to feed, leaning in, dangerous. Very close.

"I think, " said a voice interrupting, moving aside the vibes that felt like cement in the room, to place his own dignity and lightness between them, his hand gently upon the younger man's arm. " that it is time to meet our new teacher."

And then he did a weird thing, because he looked at her. 

The gaunt Professor didn't laugh, but he might as well have done, his lip taking a slow trip up north.

_A jackal would have more manners._

"Who speaks Phoenix, I believe."

Both turned to look at the tall old man at the same time.

"Impossible." The younger man moved away to the fire, as if in retreat.

"No, I don't think so." the old man replied, snapping his fingers. 

"And yes," he continued," you did feel the shift. Our young friend was – ah experimenting."

It was at that moment that her mind caved in, because a house elf, and she knew what a house elf was, appeared. In three dimensions.  A waft of cooking, of buttered toast and cinnamon accompanied his presence. 

"Would you like some tea Elrin?" asked the dignified old man, now in entertaining mode. 

_Someone else to correct about my name. Mind you, I'm all in, and yes I would like something._

"Yes please, I would." And the house elf disappeared as quickly with an order for three.

"Well," she said, thinking that it was ridiculous not to play along to this charade, even a very real charade, "I'm sure that there are many people here who speak Phoenix." The tea had arrived within seconds, with plates of cucumber sandwiches – her favourite – and Battenburg Cake and good hot reassuring British tea. 

There was a snort from the corner where the Professor had flung himself elegantly into a deep armchair, and poked the fire unnecessarily.

"No, actually." said the old man, pouring the tea, while she sat perched on a comfortable chair that she hadn't noticed before. She felt as if she were in someone's drawing room, but the old man made her feel more at ease as he handed her a steaming cup, and a plate. "Help yourself" and pushed the food towards her on a small gracefully carved table. Again, she wasn't sure where that came from, as she hadn't been looking in his direction. 

"No-one speaks Phoenix. Anywhere."

Again an uncomfortable silence. Fawkes had finished nibbling, and had his head tucked under his wing. The wood cracked as the fire spat up the chimney. 

"I think you are mistaken about me, " she replied, "because he was speaking English. You must have heard what he said. She looked at them both, one whose head was turned to the fire, his black hair shining in the light, his white hands gripping the leather of the chair. He said nothing. 

The elder man, glasses on his long nose, looked at her in silence, his head tilted to the side a little. Silent. This was getting more and more difficult. __

"I repeat, you must have heard what Fawkes said." As she said his name, she felt foolish, but continued. It didn't seem to matter anymore. 

"No". spat the abrupt reply from the fireside. " we did not." He did not turn his head, but seemed to inspect the inside of the fireplace. He had some tea perched on the edge of his chair untouched, but no food. 

Well, she was starving, and polished off what was no doubt his share of the sandwiches without guilt. 

Then she suddenly remembered some of what the bird had talked about. No wonder he was pissed off if he had heard. 

"I have to ask once again: are you are sure that you did not understand anything he said?" a different note in her voice, which she hoped did not sound like panic.

"Nothing" he growled, more sunken in his posture, more angry, as if the question were an offence to his existence. 

She looked again at the old man, hoping for help, trying to read his expression. He raised his white and bushy brows and smiled and shook his head very slightly, a cup raised to his lips. 

"Neither Severus nor I can understand what our beloved bird says. I do believe, however, that he can communicate sufficiently in other ways" and he nodded with a smile at the sleeping bird.

At the word Severus, she nearly spilt her second cup of tea. She thought that she was beginning to panic. And she suddenly felt deadly, deadly tired. Was there something in the tea? It was hot in the room. For an elderly man, he could move with great speed. She felt his whiskers brush her face and his gentle hands on her shoulders. 

"I believe that some rest is needed" he spoke firmly both to her and to the figure at the fireside.

_"Rest, where?_

She looked bewildered, too tired to protest, or worry or examine what was going on.

"Severus, would you be good enough to show Elrin her rooms?"

_My rooms? As if I belonged here. As if I was expected…._


	2. yes, it is personal

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Elrin Danse is my own creation.**__**

****

Yes, it is Personal 

Deep in the comfort of her dreamless oblivion, she came to consciousness slowly, blissfully. For a few seconds she could have been anywhere and anybody. Basking in her own warmth, Elrin stretched her whole body into the wide bed. Then opened her eyes and the world flew in and to her surprise it was a rich and elegant room, not the dark and slightly forbidding one she felt it was when she had arrived last night. 

Last night. Don't even go there.

The fire was still burning with the same heat as it had the evening before. Had someone put more logs on while she was asleep? Wonderfuly toasty. She would have imagined it to be cold, even with the decorated tapestries with their mythical beasts and dark forests covering the stone walled room.

Last night.

  
_The Professor_ - she couldn't bring herself to speak his name, even to herself – had brought her here. He had swept through the dim corridors, light aloft in his hand, while she struggled to keep up: so glad she was behind him, as a desperate feeling of wanting to cry pressed on the edge of her emotions. She had wanted to look around, but he was too fast for her. She remembered snatches of enormous spaces with huge statues, gothic archways and clusters of pillars. A whole host of stairways with a frenzy of gilded portraits climbing up them scrambling for her attention. It seemed as if there had been a war in this giant place between all the sacred and all the secular architecture of the world. Neither had won, but they had come to some kind of mad compromise and squeezed in beside one another.  This castle, apart from its immensity, was something out of a dream. 

He continued to charge through a maze of wide corridors and the more she felt like some kind of child following a demon_. _

_Ok, ok_, she kept repeating. _Keep going I know I'm really tired and I'm desperate to go to bed. _For a fraction of a second she wished the dark figure in front of her would turn round and scoop her up and carry her, but shut the idea off rapidly, horrified. For all she knew, he could hear her thoughts. Oh heavens preserve me from that. He stopped at a turning, waiting for her, obviously irritated, but was clearly doing his duty. She was sweating a little as she caught up, inwardly cursing him: her boots loud on the flagstones. 

No clean pair of knickers for tomorrow. Or a toothbrush, or a deodorant. Oh hell, she just wanted to lie down and sleep this off and this bad tempered monster had better not say something to provoke her. 

The bad tempered monster rushed on ahead again, robes stretching out behind, casting giant shadows on the walls as they passed, down steps and up more of them. Then unexpectedly, he halted in front of a large framed picture – showing a still photograph from of The Wizard of Oz. 

Well, how appropriate, she sneered to herself 

However, it wasn't exactly still. Walking arm in arm down the brick pathway was Scarecrow, Tin Man, Cowardly Lion and Dorothy, all of whom stopped immediately to stare at them both. They had been laughing together and had stopped: Dorothy bright faced and pink.

Hello, she felt like saying, but knew she wouldn't. The Lion looked sympathetic, so she gave him a half-smile. The best she could manage. 

 "Dr.Faustus" said the figure beside her and the frame swung open. No-nonsense popular-culture password here, obviously.

 _No 'toffee apple', no 'sugar mice', but Christopher Marlowe. Lovely. Just what she needed. The phrase 'going to hell in a handbasket came to mind' _

"Don't forget your password," he said as he stooped through the opening. 

Inside, a large fire warmed the room; it's light dancing on the large bed in the centre which drew and held her eyes. The generous bedding had a furry covering over the top of it: glossy, warm and inviting, spilling over the sides of the bed. That, and the great fat pillows, called to her submissive body.  

He pointed to a small door at the far end of the room, obviously not wanting to move further in himself, and took a stance by the exit. 

"The bathroom is there. I believe that you will find everything you need."   He gave the impression of needing to remove himself from this room as fast as possible.

Did he know what she needed? She doubted it. 

Maybe in response to the look on her face, he resentfully explained to the room. 

"Madam Hooch has put in a few items that you may need."

Another name that burst in on her brain. She would not examine it. There were more important things for her to consider: that bed looked so delicious: the warmth in the room releasing her tension. 

She had turned back to thank him when she realised she needed to know something before he went.

"Could you tell me where the light switches are?"

"Switches?"

"Light  - Switches" she affirmed, containing her impatience to go to sleep. He looked puzzled. 

"If you take that light, I have none myself."

He looked around him as if wondering how to deal with this unbelievably stupid woman. His hand gripped the torch.

"Make one," he hissed, looming over her, his black eyes even darker than before.

"Er, thanks, you've been such a help" she replied, openly sarcastic now, facing him with as much dignity as her tiredness would allow.

He sighed deeply. "You - cannot - make - one." The bald statement did not disguise his disgust.  

Who on earth do they take her for?

"You mean – that "Lumos" thing?" she said, angry now. She had read all the books. She knew her stuff.

Tilting his head in mock appreciation and acknowledgement, he stepped out into the corridor.

Oh hell

"I – can't make one," she said quietly, her anger gone, not even sure if he had heard her. She attempted to halt the growing fear that he would just go and leave her to the shadows from the fire: let alone the dark room beyond. The furniture held deep shadows and there was no way she would tell him of her childhood fears of the dark under her bed. There was no way to explain her immature irrationality. It would be the last thing that someone like him would understand. Her partner, her ex-partner she should say, was completely mystified by it. And he was a pussycat compared to the Professor. 

He paused for a second or two, and she thought that maybe he was going to go anyway. 

Then his black hair gleamed in the light as he ducked back through the doorway and extinguished his own light, leaving them to the warmth of the fire. It made her uneasy, his presence close in the dim light, but she stood completely still, waiting. His breath could be heard, quiet and deep in front of her and then the smooth rustle of his clothes as he moved his arm, and muttered something she couldn't make out. He then lazily mumbled: "Incendium" and a light exploded in front of her, attached to a candle which he was handing her, illuminating them both. It held much a greater light than any candle she had ever seen.  Most of the major shadows retreated.

He must have been carrying it in his robes.

"You can relight it from the fire."

Thanks. A real gentleman. Such poise. Such gallantry. At least she had a light. Now all she wanted to do was dive into that bed.

However, she was glad he had given her the light and she remembered her manners.

"Thank you" 

He ducked out of the door again, paused, but looked away as he spoke. He must have remembered his as well.

"Goodnight Miss – "

"Elrin"

What was she thinking of?

He was obviously gritting his teeth. "I did not mean your given name"

It was never my given name. Give me a break.

"Please, goodnight. Professor." She couldn't take any more and she closed the door, firmly.

Dusty light poured through the window at a high angle, revealing her night's lodgings: the nearly black, intrically carved Victorian furniture. There was the bed, a heavy tallboy and an accompanying dressing table, together with a couple of fine looking comfy chairs by the fire. She was pleased to see many bookcases surrounding the room with random stacks of heavy books – old and faded like those in that – that strange study she had been in. There had never been any in her home: no books, no art, and no colour.  Her parents had no time for them, and her ex-partner disapproved so much that she kept her favourite books in a drawer. Now she could enjoy this guilty pleasure. She noticed a feather in an inkwell on the low desk by the window.

How quaint. What a giggle.

She felt considerably better. In fact, better than she had done for a very long time. An intangible, inexcusable feeling of delight crept into her heart: almost as if she were on holiday. She fancied a bath and leapt out naked, grabbing a sheet. She didn't know if the door was locked or not, 'password or no password', but she wasn't taking any chances. She could imagine the po-faced Professor stooping through the door. 

Somewhere else she didn't want to go. 

She hoped the bathwater was hot. In an ancient place like this, she would be lucky.  To her surprise, the water fairly steamed out of the taps, and soon she was dipping into the blessed warm bath. A sumptuous towel was within easy reach, and she noticed a pile of clothes arranged underneath it. With a wet hand she lifted it, and found a note. Please help yourself. If there is anything you need, I am on the second door on your left. And it was signed Madam Xiomara Hooch. The paper was handmade by the looks of it, as it absorbed drops of water quickly and was written with a heavy type of pen, because it smudged easily. She wiped the ink off her hand. 

On the side of a huge bath were a whole range of bottles. Sniffing a couple, she chose a few, peering at the labels. Indeed there appeared to be everything she needed and so enjoyed herself, experimenting with some herbal lotions and lay there, soaking up the indulgence. It was if she had travelled a long way.

What did that bird say?  She couldn't remember his exact words. Something about destiny.

She thought of the people she knew at work, her friends and at home in the family bosom. They would think it funny, her here, wallowing in this weird hotel. She didn't really want to think about that now.  She didn't want to think about what she would face when she returned home: returned to the endless talks about who was cheating on whom and who was to blame for their problems. There were obsessive discussions about their struggle to survive the trap that they all scurried about in – about getting through the shared gloom of choiceless existence – just getting through the days. She found that she was holding a large sponge underwater as if it were someone's head. With a mighty heave, she threw the sponge at the wall, which bounced off the mirror, the water and foam streaking down.

It didn't speak and she laughed loudly, splashing the water in delight. 

Of course it didn't. Silly girl.

When she had dried herself, she looked at the clothes in horror, except for the underwear, which were fine and actually fitted, sexy even.  However, underneath those was a further set of clothes, which she decided to try on. When she went to a full-length mirror in the other room, she was thrilled. She loved dressing up.  A very strongly fitted bodice, which accentuated her figure, went with a sinuously long skirt diplomatically hiding what her family called her thunder thighs. The clothes were both made out of some unusual material with a dark iridescence, which reminded her oddly of beetles, beetle wings and flashes in the dark. The robe she put on top was heavier and a dark crimson, and she swirled about like a young girl, revealing it to have a blood red lining. She decided she would keep her boots on: like when someone was going to die. 

"With my boots on!" She laughed. "Not bad, but hair needs to go up."

She searched the pockets of her own skirt, thrown on the chair from last night, and drew her heavy hair up and clipped it high at the back, parts of it falling down. 

Good. Don't want to look too put together. Want a little wildness I think.

"You look – amazing," drawled a deep male voice from the mirror. Stunned, she stepped back, blinking. 

"Thhhank you." She wanted to ask if he was programmed to say that, but felt that, well, she did look ok. Then, flushing, she recalled her previous state of undress and her tantrum.

"So - how come the mirror in the bathroom didn't say anything to me?"

"Oh, she's was just being diplomatic." "Oh, and by the way, there is someone at the window." Indeed there was a scratching at the high-latticed window. A large bird was desperately scrabbling to get in, shedding a feather or two on the way. 

"I would open it, if I were you, my dear." Said the mirror patiently.

Finding herself in the position of Alice in Wonderland, she complied.

She had never been close up to an owl before, and not one that big, but it behaved in a very courteous manner; its wicked-looking talons placing a scroll neatly into her hands and then taking off immediately back out the open window. She opened the scroll.

Dear Elrin,

I would like to have a short talk with you before lunch, which is in the Great Hall at one o'clock..  It is still holiday time, so there are only a few of us gathered. I am sure that you are ready for a bite to eat, and if you are ready, Madam Hooch will come and escort you.

Albus

A knock on the door was likely to be her.

She took a deep breath.

"Come in." 

And looked into the most startling eyes she had ever seen.

A matter of fact, no-nonsense type, Madam Hooch chatted amiably while they retraced the steps of last night, and it seemed not such a great distance after all. She must have been dead on her feet. Again she attempted to look around, but since Xiomara (she insisted on being called) kept her talking, she felt that she could not, without being rude, really look around, and had to be content with glimpses. However, she kept the overall impression that she had had the day before, although the fresh daylight meant that it was fractionally less dark and dramatic. 

Asking Xiomara about Quiddich (she was getting good at this) led to an excited monologue about the international teams chances that year and also one of the local matches playing that afternoon. Elrin was even asked if she played. 

Yes, I shoot around the sky on a broomstick.  

Her mother would believe it. 

Taking a sidelong glance, Elrin wondered if she was gay, taking in her spiky hair, gymnslip gown and her confident strides in long, spiky boots. She wasn't sure why she thought it; it just slid into her mind. Her eyes had slits like some predator caught in headlights – yellow and slightly mad, but they did not alarm her. Liking her style and her easy schoolmistress manner, Elrin was comfortable in her presence. She could have done without the Quiddich talk, but was glad that there was something they could talk about, and not what was going on. It was awkward getting used to wearing slightly cumbersome clothes, and stumbled a few times on the stairs, but she supposed that heavy encompassing materials were needed to combat the draughts that swept through the huge spaces of the building.

As they rounded one of the corridors, they found Albus was waiting in one of the open cloisters.

"Thank you Xiomara. Is the match still on?"

"It certainly is Headmaster, and you know your team is doomed."

"Very likely" he grinned appreciatively, and turned to herself. "And you have met Elrin."

"Yes, it has been a pleasure. I will see you at lunch no doubt" she said and smiled politely, nodded and returned the way they had come.

"Get your galleons out Albus," she shouted as she marched away.

The Headmaster led her round the cloisters slowly, companionably. They circled the bright cold day that shone outside, blue-sky overhead, a thin, thin crust of snow on the surrounding roofs and the grass in the centre below. She wondered when he would speak, and when he did not, she decided to take the bull by the horns.

"Where am I?"

"Where do you think you are?" he spoke quietly.

"This is not a dream but it approximates one." "This", she said, hitting the stonework with her hand, "is too solid to be a nightmare" 

"Ahh" he said, stroking his long beard with his fine old man's hands, elegant and blue veined. "What is dream and what is reality?"

"You're playing the philosopher with me".

"My dear Elrin, I assure you I am not playing". The warmth steamed out of his mouth in the cold, but did not seem affected. She was beginning to feel her face stiffen in the wintry air. "I would gladly talk philosophy with you, but I do not believe that this is the time for it".

"Look - I know this place and I know the people and I know you, but I have never been here before so how do you think that is?"

"Please go on".

She took a deep breath. "You're all characters in a series of books. Written by a woman living on the bread-line." 

This is insane, and I'm standing here discussing this with an old man in decorated robes and a heavy hat.

"Really? How _very_ interesting. And do they sell?"

"They have sold all over the globe: they are a great success. The writer is famous."

"Good. Good". He paced the floor studying it, and spoke as if she had been talking of the weather and how nice it was.

Anger rose in her. This was too much.

"So why are you dressed like them, look like them and inhabit - this – this _castle_?" she shouted, aware of her voice echoing crazily round the peaceful cloisters.

 "Why are you imitating her creation?"

He stopped and turned to her, his eyes steady behind his spectacles.

"I believe that it is the other way around". 

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"Where do you think she got her inspiration from?" She opened her mouth to argue but stared at him.

"You're not an actor?" 

"I am most certainly not acting, my child. I did a little in my youth though…. But that was, oh, many, many years ago." 

"Why am I here then, can you tell me that?" 

"Humm", he said, "I cannot say. Only you can answer that". 

"How can I possibly answer that? I know nothing – nothing at all". 

"Not yet maybe, but in time".

"How much time?"

"I am afraid I cannot tell".  

  


"You cannot Apparate into _here_ (she couldn't say the name) but I did." 

"Well", he said, looking at her closely. "You did not Apparate exactly.  Lets just say it was Deep Magick, and leave it there for the moment shall we?"

Deep magick. Right. 

The sun was strong in her eyes but she felt numbed now, inside as well as out.

"Elrin" he paused. "I do have a favour to ask you".

Why not? I am insane. What have I to lose? 

She looked at him, waiting.

"I would very much like it if you would accept a position here. I need your skills."

She remembered his words. _Meet the new teacher_. 

But - I am not qualified. I have never taught."

"Well, this would be more like a research post rather than strictly a teaching position. And this is an honourary post. I have the power to appoint: and your qualification is in Phoenix. Since no one else (apart from Fawkes and his kind of course), can speak it, no one can evaluate you, you can evaluate yourself. Do you have a job already?

"N-no not exactly, I am between jobs", she replied, slightly embarrassed. 

"Then, please accept an appropriate salary, which is good mind you, plus bed and board of course"

"The money to go into Gringotts I suppose?" He seemed to miss the irony in her voice. 

"That is correct, I will open an account for you".

Not much good in Selfridges, was it? 

"What do you want me to research?"

"Phoenix".

"I really don't know if I have the abilities you need."

What would her father say? You can't do that. Ridiculous. Be realistic. 

"I will take the chance," he said, smiling with his bright eyes conspiratorially "if you will". 

"Alright - I'll try".

"Good. I am pleased, Madam ---"

"Danse". "Elrin Danse"

"Madam Danse. How does that sound?"

"Very impressive" she replied and they laughed together as they returned inside.

Lunch in the Grand Hall took her breath away, or at least it would have done if she had not been so nervous. The magnificent high beams of the roof yielded to the illusion that it was open to the clear sky above and they sat at the teacher's high table in the massive hall, the tables empty of students. To be truthful, she was dreading meeting her escort of the night before, but he appeared to be missing. Consequently, she kept sly eyes on the door in case he appeared, and her appetite gained as she realized that he was not going to be there and relaxed. She was introduced to Filius Flitwick, Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, Amelia Sprout and Xiomara was there as well. A smattering of uneasy students sat with them, together with one prefect. She did not recognise any of the students, and wondered where the famous trio were. After a delightful meal and an interesting talk with Filius about Muggle architecture and charmed stain glass windows, they were interrupted by the Headmaster standing and speaking to the remaining group. The students had gone early, glad to get away and into the sunshine outside. 

"Could I have everyone in the staff room in about half an hour please? Thank you."

After sitting down, he leaned across and whispered. "Elrin, I would like you to attend, and please call me Albus."

She nodded, scared and excited, wishing she had not overdone the nut roast.

_She had made a mistake. How could anyone expect her to do this? She might let him down_. _What did he know about what she could or could not do?_

And she couldn't do much, that much was clear to absolutely everyone who knew her. The joy of the morning was beginning to evaporate.

As she started to panic, the Headmaster touched her hand ever so lightly, respectfully and warmly. 

She would try. What else could she do? 

After they were settled into what she presumed was the staff room with its heavy wooden panelling and various battered chairs beside a comforting fire, tea was handed around. It had already been laid out on a table, and she was glad that a house elf was not going to appear again. She was sober and calm and wanted to remain that way.  The room had that old scruffy, desperately used school look, and piles of books and – scrolls of papers – were crammed onto almost every surface and corner. There was an old wardrobe in the corner and she wondered if there was a Boggart in it and shivered slightly.  Albus clapped his hands, and just as he did so, a dark figure came through the door; robes and hair swirling round him as he closed it. He took no notice of anyone in the room and began to lean against the panelling by the coat hooks, arms folded in a bored position. Everyone else ignored him. She tried not to look in his direction. She tried not to fiddle with her robes and examined a very interesting mark on the stone floor in front of her. She tried to think of a stuffed vulture and handbag, but Albus had a hand gently on her shoulder while he spoke to everyone.

"I will not keep you too long, but I have an announcement to make. Elrin, whom you have already met - including you Severus" he said to the dark figure, who nodded unwillingly in acknowledgement but did not otherwise move," has accepted a research post here." He beamed like a stage magician.   She heard the clapping from a distance, and it seemed a little excessive because they did not know her and she stood, flushed at their enthusiasm. She smoothed down her bodice as she got up, hoping that she looked presentable and held the edge of her crimson robe nervously as it folded around her. 

"Well done", said Flitwick, animatedly, "well done". 

Quite, what had she done?

Should she make a speech? Oh heavens, no.

"Thank you, thank you very much." 

Pathetic. Was that her speaking? 

"Sit down here please", said Albus formally. "Now, Minerva would you do the honours?"

She stared as the prim Minerva scooped up an object from behind her.  

She wasn't expecting this. Wasn't that just for students? 

In her hand was the Sorting Hat. There was a respectful silence as the professor came closer to her, her green velvet robes falling over her as she placed the hat on Elrin's head. 

She could cope with this. At least it wasn't going to appear or disappear or fly. Mind you it could talk, and talk it did.

"Ahhhhhhhhh. This is unexpected", said the sensual voice. "Well, we will see what we will see" 

A very cryptic remark

"Now, where shall we put you?"

Frankly, she didn't mind. The whole thing was a farce. She felt the slight grip on her head, as if it would not let her go until he had declared her allegiance. She was not one for group loyalties and never joined. It made no difference. 

"Slytherin" it shouted gleefully to the waiting group.

And the place was in an uproar. Or perhaps it was her that was in an uproar. Of all the things she could have dreamt, it was never to be classed as a Slytherin. Surely she was Griffindor automatically, or Hufflepuff or even Ravenclaw, athough she knew she wasn't clever. But never, never, never Slytherin. 

The second she understood, she jerked upright, pulled the hat off and flung it down, unaware of the people around her, only staring shock-faced into the black eyes of the figure by the door. He too had moved swiftly upright, no longer lounging, his posture stiff and furious and his face as bloodless as hers.

There must be some mistake 

She watched, adrenalin beating through her body, as the angry figure slowly and dangerously moved towards her. In her heightened state of awareness, she noticed how his robe slithered behind him on the floor with his hand gripped in front as if holding himself in check. He came cautiously, like a reptile towards a dangerous prey. She kept her eyes fixed on his, not daring to move, seeing nothing but those black glittering pools. No thought existed in her head, and there was a thousand years in between the movement and his arrival in her space. Silence. Nobody moved, no one said anything. 

His voice contained all the history of his tradition, all the meaning of his existence and out of it came a contemptuous power that she had never dreamt of encountering, let alone the reality of it: it was silky and slow and very low: a prelude to striking and killing.

"Do you believe that you are _worthy_ of such an honour?" 

"Do you _imagine_ that you are truly capable of even _thinking_ of entering  - _Slytherin_." Menace soaked into every word.

"I have no wish for such an honour." She it spelt out, matching his tone as evenly as she could, surprised at being able to speak.

She was damned if she was going to be bullied by him.

The fact that she was subtly shaking was neither here nor there, but what was as disturbing, was a terrible desire creeping over her. In the tension of the moment she could not stop the flow rising from deep within her and flooding her body with an ache so profound that she craved to kneel before him. Her bodice felt extremely tight and the lower half of her body was on meltdown.

"This" he hissed, his lips forming the words as he came close enough to feel his breath on her face "is an _outrage._"

Then she felt the world rock and for the last split second, saw him swiftly catch her as she fell.


	3. awake my soul it is the sun

 Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

Elrin Danse is my own creation and the story is my own.

Chapter Three

**_                                                                                                 Awake, my soul – it is the sun _**

She wasn't interested in the conversation and she couldn't hear what they were saying anyway. At this particular minute all she just wanted to do was abandon herself to the warmth and of being tightly bound. Then a quick moment of strangeness, of disorientation that was disturbing, but which didn't last long. There was a hot smell of nutmeg embedded in what she was lying on and which was warm and protective. When she was very small, her mother had convinced her to smell some grated nutmeg and what an intoxicating aroma it was: enough to send her swirling and dancing round the kitchen in delight. The memory fascinated her: she had forgotten it entirely. What she was lying against was in motion and making feel slightly queasy. She wished it would stop still for a moment, and feeling that she was positioned awkwardly, moved to get more comfortable. An oath came rumbling out of it, which puzzled her. 

_Do beds speak? Perhaps they do. Mirrors and hats do. Why should beds be any different?_

"Poppy! _Poppy!_ _Damn it!_" she heard it shout, angrily. What had it to be angry about, she couldn't imagine. Perhaps she should shift her body further around, so that she could feel what it was she was lying on, and as she began to do so, came to consciousness and nearly gasped in dismay as she realized who was just placing her down onto a bed. She felt his silken hair drop briefly on her face as his arms round her back and legs relieved themselves of their duty. Simultaneously, the long row of buttons down his jacket brushed against her breasts. Her body, in a relaxed state and with a mind of its own, moved fractionally towards the heat and not away from it and her hand grabbed his sleeve briefly before he managed to release her. 

"I'm fine," she said, a little drowsily. "Really." The bed felt cold and bare and she tried to pull her robes closer to compensate. Deep in the pit of her stomach was a protest of abandonment, but her embarrassment was fever pitch. He loomed over her, his face a mask.

"Severus, what have you been doing _now_?" a voice spoke from the other side of her, and she turned to see at a mature woman with an old-style nurse's uniform on, hat high and white and stiff approach confidently, her shoes sounding loud in the empty ward. She had a bluff manner, and it was obvious that she was teasing him, but he looked at her darkly and spun off immediately back out of the ward.

Poppy tutted. "Such a sensitive soul."

_Sensitive? About as sensitive as lightning hitting a sapling on a hilltop._

 "I think I must have fainted. But I'm alright now". 

"I believe that I will be the judge of whether you are alright," she said, getting down to business. "I will want to do some checks on you to make sure".

Feeling a little chilled, she succumbed to the kindness of Poppy, who fussed over her with chocolate and odd drinks and she accepted it with good grace, glad to be away from the staff, kind though most of them were. She wanted a little space. 

_Slytherin. Impossible. How could this happen to her? What weird bit of destiny was having a joke at her expense?_

She felt no blame could be attributed to him for being furious, because she thought it was crazy as well. The hat must be faulty. However, she couldn't think of it right that minute, because she felt a terrible urge to close her eyes. She snuggled up to a great white pillow and fell asleep and continued unmoving through to the next day, so she was unaware of the Headmaster and Minerva checking up on her with Madam Pomfrey.

In the morning, Poppy said that she could find nothing wrong and that Elrin was free to go for breakfast and but believed that she was just a little overwrought, what with being new there. 

_What did she know?_

She felt that she aught to go and see the Headmaster, and tell him that something had to be done. At breakfast, she sat as far away from her 'Head of House' as much as possible, hoping that he was not going to make a fuss about her in front of everyone, but he seemed preoccupied with his coffee and fortunately Xiomara was delighted to tell her about the Quiddich game the previous afternoon. Breakfast and sport – not her favourite combination, but Madam Hooch's enthusiasm was infectious and was again glad of her as a diversion.

_Was that a Slytherin trait? For heaven's sake, stop thinking like that._

She shivered. Albus stopped to ask if she was well, and after her assurances, asked her to come to his office later. The password was 'humbug."

He's an old bastard, she thought affectionately. He'll sort it out. She relaxed a little. 

It was when she was making her way to go through the door, when she and the person she had most wanted to avoid nearly collided. They both stepped back hastily before they were in danger of doing so: the air between them charged full of power. She swore that if she had put her hand out, she could have touched it physically. Being conscious of the day before, she avoided his eyes. They both continued to stand stock still until she realized that he was waiting for her to go before him, so she nodded civilly and went through the door, the back of her bare neck and her back prickling through her clothes.  She prayed that she would not stumble on a flagstone as she carefully made her way through the expanse of the hallway, but made sure she kept her head up. 

When eventually Elrin managed to get to the Headmaster's office, she was a little early so she stopped to admire the sculpture by the wall. As she turned around, the Head of Slytherin seemed to appear from out of nowhere and descend upon her. Literally. With a sweep of his robes, he had grabbed her by the arm before she could say "humbug". Naturally resenting this abduction, she tried to wrestle free, but his grip upon her wrist was excruciating. 

"Come with me. _Now._" 

So she found herself complying: staggering after him through the corridors. 

_Where on earth to? Was he marching her out of the castle?_

He was pulling ferociously, so she used some of his propulsion to keep up with him. Not that there was any choice: up several flights of stairs and through several corridors. One or two portraits she could see looked after them with interest on their faces. She felt extremely stupid being dragged in this way, their robes entangling as they went, but realized in a fit of disgust with herself, that her heart was despite her best intentions, singing.

Cut it out: this man is insane. You would no more go near him than a rabid wolf.

Eventually they came to a large portrait – old fashioned she thought: medieval armies fighting like tiny black beetles against a backdrop of cold mountains.

"Saruman" he growled and yanked her in. Her arm hurt but she was damned if she was going to make a fuss. Then he stood her in the centre of the most incredible room she had ever been in. It was dark: literally and in all probability metaphysically. Nearly every object was black: black leather couch, huge forbidding furniture with strange dark objects positioned around that she could not make out, even with the eerie subterranean light. This warm marine blue that bathed the huge room did not spoil the rest of the neutrals of black and silver and serpent green on carpet and textiles and there was a spot of vivid colour from a bowl of poisonous looking apples on a table. Above, the architectural features dominated the whole with a symphonic riot of heavy arches and pillars. It felt very - male.  It was beautiful, but of a beauty that was unlikely to be labelled as such. It was the wild dark beauty of the deepest depths of the ocean or an ancient spellbound forest. 

"This", he purred in her ear, his voice vibrating through her entire body "is the Slytherin common room. Do you _imagine_ that I would deem you worthy of _this_ House?  Have you have the audacity to believe that this is your milieu and consequently - make yourself _at ease_?"  

It wasn't a kind place, it wasn't a comfortable place, but it was – astonishing.  All of it seemed to reach into her from some distant time which she could not remember, knowing that it was nothing she had ever experienced or seen before.  It made her think of childhood dreams of black elvish horses with red eyes and sinister mountains, of ancient prophecies and mystery and magnificence. It even made her think of before she was born; as if she had memories that stretched out before into a jumble of deep experiences of different worlds, different times, different cultures. 

"Do you seriously imagine that you _belong_ here?" he asked, grabbing her shoulders to face him. He waited, looking down at her with those eyes that mirrored the room, to hear her tell him that he was right.

_They're made of the same substance: in accord with one another. One an offshoot of the other. Hate one, hate the other._

As he continued to scrutinize her, did she imagine seeing for the tiniest second, the merest shimmer of doubt in his eyes? Or something unreadable. 

"There is nothing to suppose..." she started and stopped as both of them moved their heads to face the door. Involuntarily, she flinched slightly and wondered if he had felt it. Not that she had anything to be guilty about. There, coming through the door was a young man, lean and tall with sleek blonde hair.

_Not bad, she thought. Young, but already devastating._

"You're early, Mr.Malfoy," drawled the Professor, deliberately holding back the force of his energy that he had expressed to her, taking his hands off her slowly and casually. He was clearly irritated; she could read that much but did not express it. The young prefect sauntered in, obviously glad to see his Head of House as the contempt that evidently normally lived on his face was in abeyance. There was also a vulnerability about him that surprised her. 

"Excuse me sir."

"Well?"

"My father wished me to give you this." And handed the Potions Master a scroll with his long, fine hands.

"I apologise for interrupting…" said Draco, looking at her, obviously puzzled and with more than a hint of arrogance in his voice, but careful to observe the niceties. _He sounded just like his father. Did he think that something had been going on?_

The young man stood there, all elegance, pale beauty and superior composure.

"We are leaving now, Mr.Malfoy, and I am indebted you for this" the Potions Master said, stuffing the scroll somewhere in his robes. "I will speak to you after lunch." he sounded business-like but not aggressive. She had not heard him speak moderately like that to anyone before. He then pushed her firmly towards and out of the door. There was no introduction.

_Of course, she had forgotten. In this world, not only was there Dumbledore, but Voldemort. How could she have forgotten? Where were her brains? Her father was right: he always said she was on another planet._

As soon as the painting swung shut – she turned on him, determined to assert her dignity. "I would be grateful if you would not handle me like baggage, Professor" 

He began to stride down the corridor, she following.

"Then, do as I tell you."

The arrogance of him was breathtaking.

"Why should I?"

She wanted to say," and who the hell are you?"

He swung towards her. "Because, _Madam_, I know what I am accomplishing. And you do not. You are out of your depth and you know it."

"I was brought here for some reason. And I know more than you think."

He snarled, backing her up against a stone wall. She could feel the deep cold hardness through her robes. The combination of black heat and his hostility breathing its ice over her made her wonder if she would end up at Madam Pomfrey's again.

_"Brought_ here? You brought yourself. You worm your way in here…"

_Worm?_ She desperately wanted to laugh, but not one iota of that amusement sneaked out on her face. 

"You're an unidentified element. There is nothing to indicate what you are. You have no allegiance that I can distinguish and no perceptible vocation. You arrived out of nowhere with no significant past and there is no historical precedence for someone like you. Your motives – could be purely – _malicious._" 

_Not only insane, but paranoid as well. Did he have to get so close?_

 "So let me warn you" his voice vibrating with a malevolence that almost stopped her breathing "that if you put _one toe out of line_ I will personally curse you with something so terrible that you will be screaming to be put out of your misery, _and there will be no-one to do it_."

The contradictory feelings that lingered on the periphery of her awareness were pushed as far away as possible, into the deepest recesses of her heart to prevent his aura of authority dominating her totally in body and soul. Luckily, her head was clear. 

"Providing," she said as coolly as she could manage, her hands shaking just a fraction, her chin titled up towards him." that you are sure that I have done so – and not just because you are mad at me".

"There are no _conditions._" And then he sneered "but if I was likely to do what you suggest, half this school would have been blasted to Kingdom Come before now."

That made her smile and suddenly he grabbed her arm again but was relieved that this time he did not hold her quite so brutally. 

"We are going to the Headmaster."

"Which is where I was going before you abducted me."

The Headmaster was found feeding Fawkes a treat and straightened up as they came through the door together. 

"Now then Severus, sit down please." It was an order, though quietly spoken. "And Elrin, would you care to sit here? And are you sure you are well enough?"

They sat as far apart as was politely possible under the old man's nose.

"Yes, thank you Albus I'm really am fine. I've never had that happen before," she added hastily in case they thought that she was the kind to collapse at the merest hint of a problem. 

There was a mild snort from the other side of the room. He obviously thought she was. 

"Fawkes seems to have a little cold. I was just tempting him with a little something to help." He smiled at them sitting there both silent and unresponsive.

"Alright, one at a time then. Severus, you first."

The Head of Slytherin got up and paced around the room, all ice now – no fire. 

"First of all, the hat is either wrong or there has been some dark magic at work here, because – this – woman – is not Slytherin. Secondly we know nothing about her and I find that very suspicious: we know nothing about her authenticity, her allegiances, or her objectives. Thirdly she is fundamentally a Muggle. Fourthly, if she _has_ witch-powers, which I doubt, she has no had no training. Fifthly I question her capability to speak Phoenix. " He stopped, looking down his enormous nose at her.  "Sixthly, she is – she is – "

"Yes?" asked Albus, apparently intrigued, eyes twinkling.

"What on earth was he going to say?"

"Irresolute!  She has no knowledge of what she is and what she is doing. "

Elrin got the feeling he would have liked to have said _weak_. Apparently finished, the Potions Master then lounged against the wall behind in what was likely, she felt, to be an habitual posture, his arms folded triumphantly.

"Very well. Elrin?" 

"I agree with – the Professor that..."

Albus interrupted "We are all on first name terms here."

It was awkward getting the name out.  "I - agree with -  Severus – that it was some kind of mistake that I have been sorted into Slytherin. I can't be – I am not  – I am not –"

"Evil?" came the sneer from the corner.

"Well, you put it so well" she said turning towards him – now her turn to freeze. "All this pure-blood nonsense. There is enough in history -  _Muggle_ history to know so. All this prejudice…it's not only offensive, it is a crime against humanity……and then there is dark wizardry bias…..  this … _Voldemort link_…. Do you deny that there have been more dark wizards coming out from Slytherin than anywhere else?"

"No" he snapped.

As if he needed reminding

And then she suddenly remembered something else and stopped and looked sharply at Severus.

_How could she have forgotten?_

The pause was so long, both men's eyes slid over to one another though she did not notice. They were both still. Very still.

"Please go on," said the Headmaster almost inaudibly. 

"I…" 

_How much could she say? How much was conjecture? It seemed unlikely. Too unlikely._

"Nothing, my mistake." 

"You are sure?" asked the Head, looking at her meaningfully over his half-moons.

Her eyes flicked back over to him, involuntarily. No, of course not. She was thinking skewed. 

_He's an ill-humoured autocrat, obviously used to having his own way._

"Yes, yes."

"Then let us take these points one by one shall we?" said Albus, putting his hands together, his eyes fixed on both of them, not smiling now. Firstly, I have checked the Sorting Hat and it is working perfectly correctly. Minerva, Filius and myself have gone over it together just in case. It is correct. It was neither faulty nor was it fooled.

"That's – " started the Potions Master.

The Headmaster's hand was up for silence.

"However, it does seem to be an unusual choice for a person – like Elrin. So there must be a good reason, even if it is not obvious at this time. "

_Either he did not know, or he would not tell her: he didn't really give much away for all his charm and kindness._

"What did you feel when you went into the Slytherin Common room?" he asked. She blinked in surprise but concentrated on the question. 

"I – was – amazed and thrilled and confused. All of those things." 

"You were drawn." Albus breathed slowly, stroking his beard.

"Yes. I was also afraid, well, I wasn't actually fearful – more like _awed, _afraid of the potential of what it is that is there, which _could_ be dark wizardry, or not. It was – incomprehensible – secretive – something so - profound that I find it really hard to say anything about it."

She could see out of the corner of her eye how – Severus -  even though still as ice, moved his head a fraction.

"But I am not comfortable with it. I do not think I belong – exactly. No more than if I would have belonged in a tiger's den. Still, it's fascinating to look at, with the safety of bars."

_The tiger as well as the den._

"What if you had been put into Gryffindor? " asked Albus.

"I would have thought that I would have been more suited, more at ease perhaps.  Except, except – that – the Slytherin room …" 

_And also – also – oh no – too truthful, too painful._

"would draw me: It would be like a deep magnet, calling me, because I can feel it even now. I would not be whole. There would be a whole chunk of me missing.

But the truth is, neither would I be whole in Slytherin." 

_I don't belong anywhere. But I'm damned if I am going to admit it in front of HIM._

 "Irresolute! It came from her own mouth." smirked the voice from behind.

"Yes, irresolute. You have her there Severus. Or maybe"  -  the Head did not finish. He left it unsaid, and then patted her arm as he got up. "Coffee? "

Snapping his fingers, a house-elf came and took the order, and then he continued speaking to her. "Slytherin is about power is it not?"

"Yes. But it's the last thing I would ever want."

"There you go – not a Slytherin bone in her body" interrupted Severus as he took the coffee from the reappeared house-elf.

"There are many forms of power."  The Headmaster said quietly, leaning forward as if to emphasis the words to her. "I want you to think on that in the time to come."

"Power is dangerous."

"It certainly is."

"So you are not going to release me from being in Slytherin?"

"The hat's declaration is final. It comes from Deep Magick. I am merely a _referee_." And smiled at his description of himself, thinking perhaps of Xiomara and his lost galleons.

She could feel behind her the boiling emotions of the Potions Master without even looking. But obviously, he hadn't given up the battle as he continued.

"There is still the mystery of why she –  Elrin -  is here in the first place, from "– and handed them the coffee – "wherever she came as a - Muggle?

"Have you forgotten, my dear Severus, about her freezing you the day before yesterday with wandless magic?"

"Fluke" he growled, retreating to his favourite place with his drink. " Do it again."

"I don't know the word I used." She admitted, head up undefeated. "_But I would do it again_" and glared at him, hoping to intimidate him.

Exasperated, Severus just shook his head.

He was wasting his time.

"A half-witch then at best," he conceded, with no training and you want her connected to Slytherin? Albus - how am I going to justify this to Lucius?"

"You will have to say that you are under orders from me, '_the senile idiot'"_

Severus stared at his coffee. "I can't use that one all the time." And half smiled. It lit his face up and she stared, fascinated. It made him look so much younger. Pity he didn't do it more often. He saw her looking and jerked his head away.  "I am also sceptical that it is possible for anyone to speak Phoenix. Let alone – a half-witch." He continued, unyielding. 

_He called her a liar with such diplomacy. But then she did not claim to speak it. Was it really possible? Not in her wildest dreams._

 "Fawkes can speak to Elrin," said Albus, looking towards the giant bird in the corner, who had been listening carefully, but who was ostensibly rearranging his feathers.  I have known him for a very long time. I have seen that he can do so. I heard it in his cadences. I heard her and you have heard her. But we will soon have the opportunity to find out."  The Headmaster then rose from his seat, which indicated, to her mind at least, that the meeting was over. 

"Severus, you have been wanting for some time to investigate _those_ papers. I suggest that you do so with Elrin." 

_That put the tiger amongst the owls._

He nearly shattered the china on his way towards her and Albus. For a real second she wondered about safety for herself and the old man.

"This is my life's work you are talking about Headmaster!" he shouted, rage in his face and his body: deadly white against the austerity of his back robes. This – _woman_ -  is to mess up _my work_ with inaccurate or even _fabricated_ translations? Putting me on the wrong track? Wasting my _time_: my _precious_ time. There IS no time, Albus." He looked like a trapped animal and a flicker of sympathy shot through her. 

"Severus," Albus commanded  "I want you to accept Elrin as your own and you have an opportunity to complete what it is you have always wanted to do. That is an order." And she saw that the Headmaster was not known to be the greatest wizard of his age for nothing, as the potency of his willpower filled the room. There was no argument: either for the Head of Slytherin or for herself.

In despair, the Potions Master, with several thin locks of black hair clinging to his white face, turned to Elrin, who was just as pale. He seemed to have lost some of his verbalization, as he snapped his order to her. "You will convey yourself to the dungeons: my office: Monday, 7.00pm. _Sharp_."

"_One toe_" he hissed as he passed close to her and slammed the door on his way out.

Acknowledgement to Robin Hood Prince of Thieves and Sue of the GB for the near quote: my office – etc.

Also unknown ff writer for a similar 'senile idiot' quote. Will acknowledge if anyone knows who it is.

(_misquoted hymn by__ Francois H. Barthelemon_. _Melody - "Morning Hymn",_ _1785_


	4. deep in the mire

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

Elrin Danse is my own creation.

_Deep in the Mire_

Chapter Four

At breakfast, Elrin was accosted by Xiomara Hooch who said that she was going shopping in Diagon Alley, and asked if she would like to come. 

"Albus has given me a bag of galleons for you to spend on all the things that you need. I could help you if you would like me to"

Delighted, Elrin accepted: never needing an excuse to go shopping. As she caught the eye of the Headmaster over his porridge, she grinned and waved and who waved his spoon back at her, smiling. Before she left, she would go and thank him. In the corner of her eye, she was aware of Severus sitting beyond him who seemed to be concentrating very hard on talking to Poppy, but whose eyes kept shifting past her to Elrin. Realized that she was being surreptitiously observed, she knew that it was not a compliment. What on earth did he expect her to do at the breakfast table? She left early, to meet Xiomara at her rooms at 10 o'clock.

When she knocked on her door and was told to come in, Xiomara was ready with scarves and gloves. 

"You'll need these, it's really bitter out."

When they were ready, Elrin made to go for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Yes, but not _that_ way."

_Floo Powder. Oh good grief. Of course, how did she think she was getting there? She was still back in the mindset of being in Borehamwood._

"You had better go first, so I can see what you are doing."

Panicking, she delayed, staring at the flames happily dancing in the fireplace.

"Supposing it doesn't work with me, I'm not a 'full witch'. Maybe it will fry me to a crisp, or – turn me green or something.

"You've been through it before."

"No I haven't."

"Think about it."

"Oh, - to the hospital wing?"

"Yes, when Severus scooped you up like a rag doll. That man works fast; I'll give him that. He was through the fire before you could say 'Quiddichmaniac'". They both laughed. She relaxed. 

"I've been told that he is more accepting now about your Sorting."

"Sort of. At gunpoint."

She laughed, her wild laughter bending her double.

_How wonderful to hear such laughter._

She gave Elrin the bowl of powder, shaking slightly still. 

"Ok, a handful, and throw it in."

"Keep your elbows in"

"_Diagon Alley_" Elrin managed to pronounce clearly.

An inelegance way to travel she thought, dizzy and weird, but at least it was quick as she tumbled out of a fireplace. As she dusted herself down, Xiomara came through – much more gracefully. She just stepped through. The shop that they came through in was busy, full of animals, birds, bats, and rats – a whole minor menagerie making a racket as well as children pointing and squeaking alternatively with delight and revulsion. Should she have a pet? She didn't really think so, since she didn't know what her immediate future was likely to be – it wouldn't be fair on the animal.  Given the choice, she would quite liked to have had a bat.

"Come on, we've got lots to do" said the Quidditch mistress, taking a hold of her arm.

"You need –another two robes at least, some clothes, a cloak black, err, scarf black, mittens black. That's for starters. Then there are quills, and plenty of parchment. Don't bother with ink – Severus makes it for all of us."

"I'd like a bit of make up too." 

"Make-up spell. Easy. I'll show you went we get back. You don't need it anyway."

"What about a cauldron? And a wand? _A broomstick?"_

"From what Albus tells me, you need none of these."

_Nothing at all?_ She felt disappointed. She would have liked to be a proper witch, not this _half-witch_ business.

"Look," said Xiomara kindly, seeing her face. "You have other abilities. We all do, yours is just more – unusual."

_What were they exactly?_

Elrin was not wildly convinced, but she allowed her to manoeuvre her out of the shop and outside. There appeared to be hundreds of children of various ages shopping with and without parental supervision. It was chaos.  

"It's not the best time in the world to do this – but it's all we've got" as she steered her left out of the shop.

She thought of Harry and his first visit, shopping with Hagrid. And an image of some other small boy with deep black hair, skinny and awkward and clutching a pile of books, just slithered into her mind. It startled her to receive such a strong image, but she pulled herself together and marched behind her companion, into shop after shop. Xiomara was a good guide, and soon they settled down for a good break at Fortesques – not for ice cream, because it was too cold, but for a good black coffee. 

"Not the Leaky Cauldron?" she enquired.

"Dull place, and too many people I know. I prefer to get out of the school mind-set when I can. It's a bit – parochial."

Elrin smiled at the thought of her own idea of parochial, but supposed it was just the same here. While they were drinking, she examined her purchases: a good heavy black scarf and cut-off mittens for outdoors, more robes, more clothes, a thick winter cloak. 

_How could this all be possible? What star was she under that she had arrived here? Of course, she could be locked up under drugs, dreaming all this. _

She gazed around on all the people milling up and down the alleyways with their cobbled streets and archaic shops in the fading winter sunshine. In particular, she would have loved to have gone to meet Mr. Ollivander and tried wand after wand, until with a gasp of triumph – a wand had chosen her, and she would learn and learn until the knowledge burst out of her. 

Oh, to be eleven again, here of course, not there.

 "What house are you in Xiomara?"

"Slytherin of course. Did you not know?"

Elrin shook her head, pleased. She should have guessed, because she had style, which a lot of the other staff did not. Except Severus Snape of course. So, one could be human and be Slytherin then? She wondered how she could articulate this to her companion.

"Xiomara – "

And was stopped by one small boy, fair-haired, running up to them shouting.

"Madam Hooch …"

"Jeremy. How nice to see you." She interrupted, and tilted her head at him. He collected his wits and stood straight.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just calm down. Now, this is Madam Danse, a member of the staff."

"How do you do Madam Danse." He recited, face flushed from his run.

Turning to Elrin, she said, "This is Jeremy Honeycutt. Second year."

"How do you do Jeremy."

"Yes, Jeremy, " Xiomara said, all attention. "What is it you want?"

For a second, she thought the boy wanted to say how much he was pleased to see his Quidditch teacher, in fact, was sure of it. 

"I – just wanted to ask about the junior team, whether I can be the Keeper. _Please_," he added, more desperately.

"I have been making up the list, and yes, you are to be the Keeper. But you are on trial only." She added, a kindly maliciousness in her voice.

"Thank you Madam Hooch! Thank you!" He leapt up and down, and then controlled himself again, and rushed off.

Xiomara smiled after the boy. "He's good too. He may make the school team, certainly as reserve. Right, back to you. There is one place we need to go yet. Leave these here – Fortesque will look after them for a knut or two. The sun was beginning to get very low now, and the lights in the shops beamed out in the growing dusk. They wended their way through many alleys before coming to one shop. 

"Not Gladrags then?"

"Not on your life. It's alright for everyday wear, and it is a little more expensive, but worth it, really. 

Elrin didn't care. She hadn't had so much money before, and was gladly enjoying it. 

"If you think I have enough"

"Enough and plenty to spare."

"Goody. What is it I'm getting?"

"Dress for the Valentine Day Ball. You need something special. You don't want to wear your normal clothes. Elrin thought that her robes were beautiful enough, but Xiomara had the bit between her teeth. So they looked through a variety of things until Elrin spotted something that made her feel as if it were made for her, and they both agreed. 

"Shoes too. Must have shoes." And both dived into the shoe department and fell upon the only pair that existed there as all the others shrank into insignificance. It was so wonderful to have a female companion for shopping. She had never had it before. It was such glorious fun, sneering at this, and getting excited over that: mirroring her own misgivings and reassuring her about the complementary. Elrin had not had such fun – since – since she could remember. 

"Not of course, said her escort, "that there is anyone to tart up for, but Albus expects us to look our best – while we keep our sharp eyes on the little buggers.." and they giggled all the way back home as it got dark. 

_Home?_

Sunday evening competed with Saturday as the highlight of the weekend. She could feel the invasion of the students, like a mass exodus in reverse. Slamming doors, shouts, feet thumping down corridors, shouts of correction from staff. She had spent most of the day walking round outside, in her new winter cloak, scarf and mittens, cold and excited. Not excited for anything in particular, just being there, seeing the scenery and gaping at the architecture of the school from the outside. It was on such a grand scale and everything demonstrated its best profile in the January sunshine. If she had been an artist, she would have grabbed her paints immediately. It was an oasis of security and strength. 

When seated at the High Table on the left of the Head at the end, she could see all the various sizes and shapes of youngsters in their rows along the tables, excitedly chattering while they awaited the Winter Feast to begin. About them, the Great Hall looked magnificent, and the glow from the rows and rows of candles spread warmth and allure to all around, and above them the night sky reflected was pure indigo. Earlier, Severus had come up behind her, bent down close to her ear and said that he expected her to watch the Slytherin table, but also to have her eye out for Gryffindor as well. She thought she had better do her duty and continued to be fascinated by all the different houses, with the ghosts parading and remembered her sorting, and wasn't sure if she was embarrassed or proud. The two emotions stood side by side, neither one of them giving ground to the other. Thinking about it made her very uneasy. Dumbledore then stood as Minerva brought the room to attention.

"Welcome to Hogwarts for our second term of the year. "Now before we make utter pigs of ourselves, I have a couple of announcements. As you know, Professor Swage who was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has taken a posting at the Ministry, and so I have the great pleasure to welcome back for the rest of the year someone who has my complete confidence, and incidentally, the governoring body's confidence," his voice emphasising his words carefully, his glasses flashing in the candlelight. "Professor Lupin, who has been with us before." Loud clapping as he stood up, especially from the Gryffindor table.

"And to introduce a new member of staff – Madam Danse, who is our researcher." She received applause, but perhaps benefiting from their obvious enthusiasm for the knowledge or reputation of the DADA teacher. So that was who he was; he certainly looked more presentable than he presumably had years ago, but he still had a slight scruffy look about him that some men had, regardless of their dress, which she found rather attractive. She liked the look of his face too, a gentle, reserved, human face. Severus did not look pleased at his presence, but neither did he appear as angry as she might have expected.

"Now let the feast begin!" cried the Headmaster, clapping his hands. Gloriously fattening foods appeared immediately in front of them on silver platters. The dinner of course ended with engorged students dragging themselves off to their dormitories, still chattering and pushing and larking about in their tiredness. It seemed as if a giant creature had invaded the quiet place. Not an alien one, because it lived there so many months in the year. But now, in a few short hours, it seemed as if it had always been like that: full and bustling with a myriad energies into one great being: All order and chaos, all secrets and candour. Wizards of all ages meeting with the energy of the building, as it took them back into its bosom for the second term.

The next day, she had a problem with knowing how to be useful, so she thought she would do a little research on her own in the library. Asking for Madam Pince's help, she found several books nearly ready to fall apart and settled down to read what she could on Phoenixes and their language. She was not looking forward to that night, but at least she had made an effort at preparation.  

At five to seven, Elrin, having asked directions of one of the Prefects, approached Severus' door nervously. She would have preferred to run away, but made herself knock.

"Enter."

Inside, she was surprised at the size of the room. She had expected something smaller, and there was a fire in the grate, warming the figure writing in one of the armchairs. He took one glance at her, scribbled some more, and then stood up.

"Follow me."

As he walked, he stripped off his outer robe to reveal his frock coat, threw it on a bench and led her into a side room which was filled with rows upon rows of floating things in jars, presumably body parts: human, animal, insect and vegetable life she noted swiftly, not really wanting to peer too closely. He grabbed a heavy chair from the side and dragged it to the middle. It was chilly in there, obviously to keep the temperature down for preservation purposes.

"Sit down," he commanded.

Elrin sat, wondering what he wanted her to do.

"Put your arms on the arms of the chair." He sounded like a physician. She did as she was told. Then looked up to see him with a wand in his hand, pointing it at her.

"_Incarcertorium_" he murmured softly. Ropes appeared from nowhere, binding her hands, waist and feet to the chair. She couldn't move at all. 

What?

She looked at him aghast– at his frighteningly easy manner: at the leisurely indulgence he projected, standing there. 

"Did you really think that I would let you get your hands on my papers – just like that?" he purred.

She remained silent. She needed to get her heartbeat down first.

How did one play this? What could she say to convince him? Nothing probably. He seemed beyond reason.

He leant down to her level, leaning his hands on the arms of the chair besides hers, scrutinizing her close up: eyes like black stars attempting to infiltrate their way into hers. 

"You are blocking my reading, _Lady_. I don't know how you are doing it, but you have been holding something back – right from the beginning: something I don't feel comfortable with and I want to know what it is."

So he couldn't read her, well – good.

He straightened up again, circling her, tapping his wand on one of his hands.

"I don't have anything of importance to hide."

"A little - Veritaserum will soon establish what is important and what is not."

She froze. 

"You wouldn't. Isn't that - illegal?"

"Restricted." he leered, smiling an eerie, unpleasant smile while reaching for a tiny crystal jar from amongst his bottles. Then he put it on a small table in front of her. 

"Three drops should do it."

"Under Dumbledore's nose? You wouldn't dare."

"And what would you know about what I dare and what I dare not?" he said, raising one eyebrow. "A little Memory Charm for you, a little deception there." 

Then his voice changed from one of easy sensuality to bitterness. "You don't know what kind of person you are up against." 

"A former Death Eater I understand."

Former please: former. 

"Two points for Slytherin," he teased: then abruptly sneered. "A nasty species – one that will do _anything_ to preserve what they hold dear, and I mean anything _Lady_."

She noticed that she was sweating slightly in the cool room. He looked pleased.

"Those papers – must be dynamite if you are prepared to do this."

"_Ten_ points for Slytherin " he said, appreciatively. "We're doing well, aren't we?"

She thought she would change to another tack. 

"I understand your need to protect them considering the dangers of V – V… 

_Odd. How is it difficult to name him? Was it in this world, not as simple?_ Her respect for Harry grew. She forced herself, determined not to be outdone by an eleven year old. "_Voldemort_"

"What _do_ you understand? What do you know of the dangers?  Have you ever been near this danger?" he leaned into her. "Have you _any_ idea whatsoever of the strength of the foul darkness which threatens us? 

"No, no I don't." she said ashamed.

"You have been _cosy_ at home."

_Hardly cosy. But yes, blind and dull-witted. Doing nothing with her life. Just existing. _

He went on. "Snug and protected – not seeing anything. So what are you doing here?"

She let out a breath. "I don't know."

As if he would believe her: like pigs flying. Do pigs fly here?

He inhaled suddenly: took the potion bottle, opened it and shook it with his hand. He then moved towards her, putting his thumb about an inch from her mouth, which had suddenly became very dry. She kept her eyes locked onto his, as if they were the only piece of sanity in an insane world. His thumb stayed steady and she waited for the clear liquid to touch her lips that were slightly parted. Was he going to smear it on her mouth? If she put out her tongue, she could lick it. Then he would find out the feelings he evoked in her every time he was near and then he would trample on them. Between her vulnerability and his intent lay a whole world. He would have to force the drug on her: there was no way that she would make it easy for him.

What was that Renaissance guy's name who believed in the ends justifying the means?

She felt the tightness of the ropes around her and her eyes flicked to the closed door. Then, quickly, she made a jerky movement with both hands, restricted though they were. No incantation came out of her: nothing happened. And he laughed, a deep, eerie laugh, full of unimaginable obsessions and encounters. Not that freezing him would have her helped much, but maybe she could have found a way to get free. 

"Careful, my hand might have moved in the wrong direction. " He wiped his hands thoroughly on a handkerchief from his pocket, and then turned to kneel before her on the floor. 

Puzzled, she watched as he smiled unpleasantly, looking up at her and then she nearly choked as he put his hands on her thighs. Slowly, slowly, he began to push the material of her skirt up.

Merciful heavens – this man will do anything.

Steadily, he worked the folds – keeping his eyes tight on hers – the skirt had a lot of material and he took his time, while she started to breath heavily. 

_Machiavelli, that's the name_. _Central library. Top shelf, on the right. Cover a bit torn._

What was worse, she realized that her knickers were suddenly wet, her body betraying her once again. She closed her eyes in case he could read her desire, although any minute he would find out anyway. 

"Please don't do this," she whispered, hardly getting the words out. He ploughed on. Then something inside her broke: she didn't care. She turned her head and waited with her skirt hitched high and her thighs now exposed to the cool air and his hot hands.

Let him get on with it.

Then he paused.  Slowly he stood up and pulled her skirt down, almost carefully. She still felt the imprint of his hands on her, burning and clear as if they were still there. Then, with an abrupt movement, he turned to go out of the door, his silhouette crisp against the outer light. Something in it made her ache with longing. Then realized that he was taking the light with him. Those bottles and those shadows were beginning to look as if they would take over the room. 

Oh help. Oh help.

"Please leave me a light." She knew she sounded frantic. "I beg of you." The chances were he wouldn't, but she had to try.

He paused in the doorway.

"I'm afraid of the dark."

"And so you should be" he snapped, thrusting his wand towards a candle on a shelf. 

"_Incendium_" 

"Thank you." Sweat was pouring down her back, her hair plastered to her cheeks and clinging to her lips. And he left her like that. Then a further horror invaded her.

What if he left her here all night? What if she wanted to go to the loo? Funny, how something like that could be more frightening than the threat of a truth drug.

She sat waiting. How long was he going to keep her there for? Surely Dumbledore would make a search for her if she didn't turn up for meals? The thoughts rattled round her brain. He had bluffed, but it had worked – she was completely shaken from it. Perhaps because she knew he could do whatever was in his unscrupulous, inscrutable mind, and it had brought home to her the deadly forces that were loose abroad. It seemed like hours, waiting here, her arms and legs sore. She couldn't really tell the time. She was getting cold, very cold.  He was going to kill her if he left her here any longer. She thought of home, but that was no comfort, there was nothing there for her. A while after that, he returned and stood over her, waiting. Then a strange thing happened – a strange sensation of being utterly, utterly safe flooded over her, like a balm, like a warm summer night. Everything seemed clear.

"Give me the potion." He stared at her, as if not sure of what she said. "Give me the potion. I really don't have anything to hide. It is my own decision. I accept it freely. Even if you _have_ kept me prisoner." If he was going to expose her innermost thoughts, so be it.

He stooped down to her and looked into her eyes for what seemed a long time. 

"_Finite Incantatem_" he said quietly, and the ropes disappeared immediately. 

She waited for him to get the bottle, but he motioned her out of the door. She stood still in his office, cold from the other room, her robe wrapped tightly round her. It was warm in here and she shuddered by the fire. He sat down at his desk and began to write with a large black quill. She waited. 

"Go." He said, ignoring her, intent on the scroll on his desk.

 "The Potion?"

"Go, before I do dispense it to you. See me here, tomorrow at 8.00pm. 

The nib scratched on the parchment in the silence, speaking as he wrote. "And do not forget that I am still watching you."

Disorientated, she went out of the door, not looking back. It seemed that she had been dismissed. Out into the draughty corridors she fumbled her way back towards her room. His attention, though negative, had kept her going. She could not think at all, just automatically went in what she hoped was the right direction. Just before she got there, a transparent jelly-like substance hovered in front of her.

"Hello, he said seductively, what's a tasty dish like you doing out at a late hour like this? Little goings on eh? Tut tut. "

"Go away Peeves." She was in no mood for silly games, and moved to go around him. Peeves re-routed. So she would have to go through him. Unfortunately, he was chillier than she imagined and retreated as if burnt by ice. 

Before she knew it, another transparent figure had swooped down. The Bloody Baron swirled his cloak gallantly to shield her and merely glared at his ghostly companion.

"Alright, alright, I'm going, I was just being friendly." said Peeves, pouting and lurched away into the gloom, muttering.

"There my dear, all gone." The Baron's unexpected kindness cut through her like the sword that was swinging round his waist. "Can't having one of our own unprotected can we?"

Our own. What a joke.

She did not have the stamina to thank him, but rushed past him to her room, flung herself onto her bed, a mess of need and anger and despair and sobbed until she was exhausted and finally fell asleep.


	5. song of the phoenix

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

Elrin Danse is my own creation and the story is my own.

The Song of the Phoenix

Chapter five

The mirror in the bathroom nearly freaked out at the state she was in – her swollen pink eyes staring out of a blotchy face. She had struggled to get out of bed. Snow was falling onto the windows from a darkened sky and whipped up by a strong wind making it was relatively gloomy, so she lit several candles.

"Oh my dear, slap a bit of cream on. We can't have you looking like _that_."

"I'm not sure it would do the job."

"A good bath would settle you." 

Elrin stared at herself leaning against the sink and a moment later she had covered the mirror with a spare towel, and it made a muffled protest. Then she sank into the bath, glad of the deep warmth as if it were caressing her body. Feeling the marks made by the ropes, she soaped them as if by doing so they could be healed, then remembered his hands on her thighs and rubbed them: rubbing them out or rubbing them in, she wasn't sure. She recalled how she had lubricated frighteningly easily at his attentions and felt herself there, and found she was still affected. Flashes of him tormented her: his coldness and scorn: the way he had pointed his wand at her with his black bitter eyes; his thumb close to her mouth – so close she could smell his hands and then the quiet way he pulled down her skirt. Why had he stopped? Why did he not carry on? She had done nothing to stop him. There was nothing she could have done. Yet he stopped.

Then she thought of his face when he tried to read her after she said that she would volunteer to take the Veritaserum. She put in her fingers and came extremely quickly and strongly; resting her head on the bath, water swirling around her. It didn't, however, make her feel much better, in fact, maybe more drained. Her body had relaxed, but the rest of her was tense. Had she given up because he forced her to? He had demoralized her, which perhaps been his intention, but she didn't think that it was at least his main intention. He really wanted to _know_ whatever he thought she was hiding. He appeared convinced that she was some sort of mole trying to get to his precious papers and yet supposed her to be incompetent. The mix of the two didn't seem very likely unless he thought her to be acting stupid. She shook her head at the idea of being taken for some sort of a spy. Perhaps she should see it as a compliment. He seemed to be totally vexed by the fact that he couldn't _read_ her. She wondered why not, if he was so good at it. There was nothing about her that was special: she was just an ordinary person in an extraordinary situation. She sighed, and the mirror spoke through the towel. "There, there," which made her laugh.

She had a few biscuits and some coffee in the empty staff room, and gloomily sat there, the snow sticking against the high latticed windows, listening to the sound of the wind: it was quite peaceful.  The silence inside, punctuated only occasionally by distant sounds, made her want to drift into a space she sometimes inhabited at home. A secret, glowing place of quiet: not alone, but as if she was with more than just herself, having a companionable state with the objects around her: the mountainous piles of parchments and objects, the battered chairs and the wind outside and the great looming building. Eventually someone came in to break it, and it was Lupin, sinking gratefully into a chair beside hers. Although he was obviously tired, he appeared to be in good spirits. 

"Remus"

"Elrin"

They shook hands, laughing at their brevity.

"I'm told you are researching Phoenix," he said, sounding interested. "Not a particularly easy thing to do I would have thought."

"No, it's not: there's nothing much in the library that I can find." He obviously had not been told very much, and she was not going to enlighten him, sympathetic though he seemed to be.

"And you are working – _with Severus_ – on this? He was either benefiting from experience or he noticed the expression in her eyes, or was it perhaps even werewolf insight?

"Don't let him get to you. He's a good, sound man, if not what most people would call a gentle one."

A kind face, who would not half torture someone – as long as he took the potion of course – Severus' Potion.  A good, sound, man.

It made her head spin and absently rubbed her arms where the ropes had been, and since she didn't respond, he turned to her, concerned. 

"Has he been vindictive to you? I heard about the Sorting."

With alarm, she could feel the tears just dying to creep out. She couldn't have it. There was no way that she really could tell anyone, however nice. It felt important for her that it was dealt with by herself. If she became totally out of her depth, she would go and speak to Dumbledore. There was no way that she was going to be a martyr. 

"It's fine. It's not a problem. I – have to go now, and almost jumped out of the chair and rushed out of the door, leaving a disturbed Remus behind."

In the library, she found three older students discussing something fervently in a corner where she had been sitting previously. She took no notice; found her books, and settled down to continue to read nearby. The books were not wildly helpful. They kept saying the same things over and over. Phoenix was an unknown language, it was poetic, it was deeply meaningful, had healing powers, blah, blah, blah. She snuck a look at the students, and gradually realized that she knew who they were. The dark haired boy, now a Prefect, must be Harry. She wouldn't have recognised him except for the scar, still partially hidden behind a more tousled look, and tall and quite good looking. Next to him sat Hermoine, strongly attractive and very upright, now a young woman, a very serious expression on her face: Head Girl by the look of her badge. Facing them was Ron. He was the easiest to spot because of his hair and not as tall as Harry, and poor lamb, not as attractive but who had more character in his face. She watched them for a little, gesticulating and arguing about something. Then she noticed them watching her watching them, and felt uncomfortable. Did they know she was a Slytherin? If they did, short shrift for her. Hoping that they didn't think she had overheard, she gave a light smile and a little wave and returned to her books. She didn't want to see how they reacted. One violent dismissal from one person was quite enough for one week.

At supper, she hardly dared to look at him. She avoided his end of the table, so neither knew nor cared if she was 'under surveillance'

_Why did she feel so guilty about what he did to her? Just because there was something he couldn't fathom. Hadn't he met a woman before?_

Xiomara seemed to sense her sadness, and spoke more quietly and soberly, telling her about a missed order for broomsticks. Gradually she began to pick up her spirits, eating a little of the delicious pork chops and mashed potatoes in front of her. As Lupin was late and gently patted a hand on her shoulder as he passed, Xiomara raised her eyebrows at her confidentially. "Go for it girl."

"Baby werewolves?"  Elrin whispered. They giggled, earning a withering glance from Minerva, and so ended up both trying to suffocate their laughter in accordance with their rank for they could be seen by every student in the hall. It was a tonic. Such kindness and generosity on the one side and a raving lunatic, mad at her on the other. 

Was it always going to be like this, this duality of dark and light? 

If ever she was going to pray, to Merlin in this world, or whoever, it would be to understand and overcome it, not leave her weak and helpless like this. 

At a few minutes before eight, she knocked and waited at the Severus' door. There was no sound for a minute, and wondered if he had forgotten. She couldn't do it. She must be crazy to face another scene like last night. Maybe she would just go now, and was about to slip away when she heard the dreaded snap of his voice.

"Come."

He was arranging scrolls on his knee at the fire, hair flopping, intent at his task. If there was anywhere else that she could have been at that moment, she wanted to be there now. Was she just to stand there like a student before him? 

"Sit down. Here," he commanded, indicating the chair opposite him. She tried to calculate his mood, but could not read it.  The fire was welcome and she shivered faintly as she faced him, his face carved by the warm light. Being close to him again, fresh, real, solid, not a monster of the dark, brought up her usual conflicting emotions, as if she were in front of a powerful force of nature. Not something to be taken easily or lightly, and which might easily crush her if she was unwitting. She needed to be awake. 

"This collection of parchments – his hand touching them gently as they rested on his lap - were handed down to me by my family. They have been with us for many generations and now I am their custodian." His eyes were intent and his voice was a silky intimidation.

"They are physically vulnerable. I would have liked to have made copies, but I am unwilling to do that in case I mistranslate." He selected out what looked like a frail and blotched fragment and cradled it in his hands, as Hagrid would have done with his precious dragon eggs and with not dissimilar look on his face. Elrin, despite her misgivings, was softened by this obvious devotion to something precious. It was something she would never have suspected. 

His love for potion making yes, but this?

"I presume that this is written in Phoenix. Neither of you has told me." 

He stared at her ready to be exasperated, but then recollected that she could not possibly know. 

"Archaic Phoenix. Thousands of years old. Nothing like them in existence and a treasure beyond price."

She drew in her breath sharply. There must be a lot riding on her abilities that even she was not convinced of. Before she could comment however, he continued, his teeth gritted. "It is imperative that you fully understand that these contents must not be disclosed to anyone," a slow deep menace creeping into his voice as he bent forward towards her, his teeth gritted. "Anyone. In this state or in any other state. It does not exist. There are only three people in this world who know of its existence including you. Am I making myself perfectly clear? These conditions will be obeyed or I will….what?

"Kill me?"

"Correct. Do not doubt it." He enunciated coldly and deliberately.

She did not doubt it.

"What about Dumbledore?" 

"Dumbledore, yes. Of course, he is the third person. 

 "I'd like to ask – if you don't know what's in them, except for the fact that it is written in Phoenix, how do you know that the contents are important?"

"Legend has it that the secrets of the Universe are locked up in it, and that means power and that means the downfall of Voldemort. Legend - and my own desire. This manuscript has been haunting me since childhood. My family have been guarding it for generations. Many people have died for it, including my immediate family."

No wonder he had tested her, if that was what it was. No wonder he was half crazy.

Remembering Fawkes, she said with some hesitation "Perhaps it is just philosophy."

"You think so little of philosophy?" he leered, leaning back in the chair.

"No, but I don't think of it as practical. It doesn't fight wars."

"My family legend also has it that there are potions hidden in the text: powerful potions." 

"Ah."

"Another condition is that none of it leaves this room and continues to remain in my presence. Do I take it that you abide by these conditions?" It was if he had frozen himself still, waiting. The flames cracked loudly, and she heard a little pop of something in a cauldron or a jar somewhere. 

Him waiting for her? 

"I do. At least…"

He glared at her, still frozen.

"I will abide by them and I will do the best I can."

"I would allow you to do nothing else, _Madam_," he retorted.

"If my life is in your hands, you might call me by my given name. Perhaps you can remember what it is." she said, a note of sarcasm slipping out.. He struggled for a second and breathed in and then said, "Elrin." A vision of him holding her life in his hands like he held the parchment tore through her body for a second and was gone, and the surprise was that it was a comforting one And then he handed her the single parchment, placing it reluctantly in her two hands. It was all squiggly shapes and rows and rows of beautiful calligraphy, faded and burnt in places. She couldn't read a word of it.

_Oh shit._

"I need to show this to Fawkes, she said "immediately."

"What!" He said jumping up from his chair. "The _insufferableness_ of women! Conditions mapped out and agreed and already you want to break two of the most imperative ones," he shouted.

"Come on Severus, consent," she said, standing. 

"Don't Severus me!" he roared.

She couldn't tell him she couldn't read it. She just could not. Her whole life would have dropped away: even though she had never heard of Phoenix language before last week. She needed to talk to the bird. Show him the parchment: it seemed important. Her whole being urged her to do so. Remaining calm she said. "Surely you cannot exclude Fawkes from your conditions. Is he not included in with Dumbledore?  It is inconceivable to leave him out of the equation."

He growled, circling the floor.

Recovering himself.

"No, it is not unreasonable. If he can speak that is, in anything comprehensible." 

"She waited for him, sick to her stomach, but yearning for him to agree.

"Then I can go?"

"No! No papers leave here," he fumed. Did you or did you not hear me earlier? Does nothing enter your brain and remain there?" 

She felt like a first year.

"The Headmaster's Room is surely the safest anywhere?" she countered.

"For Merlin's sake!" He took a step towards her. "You push me too far. If this is how you are going to behave, you had better let me have that fragment back. Now!"

She held onto it, not tightly, in case he pulled it from her: it would probably crumble into ash if it became torn.

"What does it say?" he demanded.

"I can't tell you yet. Let me go!" she pleaded.

"Why?"

"I want to speak to him. I need him to help me."  

He said nothing, so she tried another tack, and spoke very quietly "It's so beautiful." and she caressed the parchment over its inked surface with her long pale hands. He was watching her, eyes intent on what she was doing. An odd look on his face. 

After a few seconds he said,  "He could come here."

She thought about it, it was not ideal, but that might be a solution. She opened her mouth to agree but before she could do so he had quickly taken her by the arm and reached for the Floo Powder on the mantelpiece. 

"Give me that parchment"– and held it tenderly against his jacket with the flat of his hand and said "Headmaster's study"

The Headmaster himself was absent, luckily, so he did not see the invasion of two of his staff. Elrin felt uncomfortable being there.

"I have his permission, do not concern yourself." He said wryly, observing her frown.

She made her way over to the sleeping bird while Severus, sighing loudly, threw himself on a chair behind her.

Damn. What a time to be sleeping. How did one wake up a several hundred-year-old bird? Poke him in the ribs?

"Fawkes." She said quietly. 

"He's not going to hear you with that tone of voice. Speak up."

"Just let me do it my way, please."

There was a noisy snort.

"_Fawkes_," she said louder. No reaction.

"He's wasn't dead was he?"

She turned to the figure behind. "Am I speaking English?"

He raised one eyebrow, high. 

So, she could only speak it while they were talking together? 

It shouldn't make any difference; surely he would hear her in any language

She put a hand out to stroke the velvet feathers, and immediately he shifted under her hand and softly woke. 

"Good evening Elrin," he said, yawning and stretching his wings. They expanded beside her for what seemed like miles, the great red plumage shimmering in the light. She was never so glad to see someone awaken. She turned to Severus to see him observing: then remembered he had the parchment, and retrieved it from his slightly unwilling hands.

"Unless Fawkes intends to eat it, it is safe with me," she almost whispered. Then she was sure she glimpsed an infinitesimal flash of panic in his eyes. If she hadn't been so close, she would never have seen it. She had a terrible desire to kiss him on the cheek. Fortunately she had more sense.

"I realize that it is impossible for you, but please trust me," she said softly.

"About as much as I trust a python," he muttered, arms crossed.

Was that a complement coming from a Slytherin? Mmm, Maybe not.

Fawkes now revived, and was looking at the woman returning to him.

"How are you?" 

Surprised, she said that she was well.

"I meant really," 

"Excuse me," she said and turned to the waiting figure. "Am I speaking English?"

A slight shake of his head reassured her. 

Turning back to Fawkes, she said "He's – he's – not easy." 

"No. Did you want easy?"

"I wasn't aware of having wanted anything in particular. Fawkes, I need to ask you about these manuscripts. They're in archaic Phoenix."

"Are they? Interesting." And prodded a few feathers about, though there was nothing out of line. 

She took a deep breath. "Would you help me with them?" 

"In what way?"

"To translate them into English for me."

"I don't know any English."

"But I do. If you could tell me what it says, I can write it down. If you wouldn't mind. I can't read a word of it."

"Oh yes you can."

"I assure you I cannot."

"Let me see this."

She held it in front of his eyes, or rather one large eye since he couldn't read binocularly**.**

"Hum. Where has this come from? This is a mighty potent piece of work."

"It belongs to Severus. It has been handed down within his family for generations."

"I apologise, but I cannot translate it for you."

"A fierce kind of panic gripped her."

"What is it that he is saying?" came the voice behind her, and she waved a hand at him for silence without looking.

Double eyebrows were raised, but she did not see them.

_She had to do something. _

"Fawkes, I need to do this. I'm not sure why. Not just for him."

"Are you sure, my dear Elrin?"

"I – don't know. He has been - pretty difficult." 

_An understatement of the century._

"It is for yourself?" 

"I really don't know. It is just a kind of inner urging. I feel I must."

"That will do. I can help you to translate though."

She stood more upright, surprised.

"How?"

"There is a way, but it is not easy. I will help you with a beginning, then you must continue by yourself."

Relief flooded into her and she turned to smile at Severus. He was unmoved.

"Alright, what do I do?" she asked the bird.

"You meditate."

"What! I don't know how! All that crossed legged stuff, and fingers _arranged_ _so_."

"Quite. But this is Phoenix style. I will start you off."

"But – if it comes through my own mind, it could be purely subjective. I could be wrong."

"Yes, you could be. That is why you need to be vigilant and careful and slow. And – most of all – this is a difficult one – _honest_."

"I – am fairly honest, most people would say."

"To yourself." 

"Oh." 

"Do you believe you are?"

"I – err – don't – in what way?"

"You know very well what way."

"To – she nearly twitched her head towards Severus before she remembered he could understand her body language easier than what she said. "About – Severus?"

"I'm saying nothing. This is your honesty, not mine."

"What has this got to do with meditation?"

"Everything. If you cannot be honest, you will make mistakes. What comes through you, will come through translated, but you need to be clear, just like a clear substance in a crystal bottle."

It made her start a little. 

_Did he know – about it? Or was it a coincidence? Surely it must be the latter. _

She noticed for the first time that the room was over-warm, and decided to remove her outer robes, putting them on a nearby table. Brushing off the dust of the day from her skirt and bodice, thrust her fingers through her thick hair, she returned for action. 

"Right. Do you really think you help me with this?"

"I warn you now this will be harder on your own. You can come to me for general advice on meditation, but the manuscripts will be in both your hands." 

"Then why could we not do it like this through the whole manuscript?"

"Because this is your task. And his. Not mine." 

"I won't know if it is right though, on my own."

"You won't now. However, as things begin to slot into place, you will know if you are on the right track."

"If I make one slip, _he_ will blast me into eternity."

Fawkes chuckled, if a Phoenix could be said to chuckle. 

"I don't think so. Do you see the way he looks at you? And he has really been waiting patiently – for him."

Looks at her? 

Feeling the heat rising on her face and neck she turned her head away, so that he might not see.

"He looks at me as if I were a Death Eater's moll or something. I appear to make him mad. He says it is because he can't read me."

"Or perhaps it is because he really can, but he too has problems of honesty."

The rustle of robes as someone crossed their legs for the third time made her concentrate on the matter in hand.

"Please, can you help me now with this?" as she held up the fragment.

"Very well, sit down. Make yourself comfortable."

She drew up a chair to sit beside him and detecting Severus' growing impatience, said to him "You have waited a very long time. Would a part of an hour be too much to wait?" So he sighed heavily and continued his vigilance, like some ancient knight guarding a sacred treasure, arms folded.

"Now, close your eyes and follow me. Never mind how it sounds – just copy it. Alright? Don't be alarmed. I am keying you in first and then the text will come." 

_What am I doing? I can't do this._

She could feel her pulse beating through her body, the hardness of the chair that she had chosen, and the smell from the Birchwood in the fire.

"Just relax, you are in a safe, comfortable place" the bird intoned, his voice changing as he said it, low and strong. Then she heard the strangest sound. It began deep within the Phoenix, but it grew louder and stronger out of his beak echoing in her head, reverberating throughout her body and felt impelled to open her mouth to voice the sound as best she could. It was a sound that vibrated first through the room, and then extended itself, passing through the walls, through the school, through the mountains and through the moors, through the earth below and the sky above. It was a madness and a beauty and a power. Something beyond but was there within her as well as if they were the same. Just as she could take no more, it began to fade and gradually slowed until she could hear Fawkes talking to her quietly.

"You have the parchment in your hand – touch it gently." 

And slowly, slowly, words began to drop into her mind. She tried to shape them.

"No, no," he said almost inaudibly. "The first one was right. Now the second. Gently. Wait. Wait." He continued to give instructions until she opened her eyes and the room came into her awareness, almost like it had done on her first day, fresh and tangible.

She could not speak at first. She sat gazing at the bird that in turn was watching her carefully. The silence in the room was almost overwhelming.

"That was - astounding." she managed to get out after a little time. 

She couldn't say, what was that? Because she already knew and had always known, yet she could not remember having experienced it - ever. 

"Make sure you take a drink of water as soon as you can. It may help the feelings of slight disorientation that you are having." 

"How can I do this on my own?"

"Now you have been keyed in, you need just relax silently and wait for the words to drop into your head."

"You are very - kind."

"You are welcome as always. And give my regards to our angry friend."

"Are you joking?"

"No. I am not. I have seen many things, and he particularly has my high regard."

Her eyes flicked over to the dark figure involuntarily, and then he knew they were talking about him and his eyes narrowed.

"I have," he said standing, "waited long enough." And moved over to the pair of them.

"Fawkes has given me a start on this first fragment so that we can begin decoding it the rest of the manuscript" she said to him, still slightly light-headed.

"It's a very exceptional way to read – a compelling duet," he observed.

"It's – the Phoenix way. He has been very generous, and he gives – his regards to you. He said that he holds you in high regard."

She thought there would be a snort at this, but to her surprise, he looked at the bird.

"There have been many occasions when I have been very grateful to Fawkes. I would not otherwise be standing here alive." and nodded solemnly to him.

It was the first time she had heard him speak with a genuine tone in his voice and it was as if her heart was drawn to it like a thirsty creature to water.

Perhaps sensing her attention and before she could absorb this, he moved his head swiftly back to her.

"Well, do I have to prize it out of you? I'm waiting," his head on one side.

"Oh, yes. Lets see. I need to write it down fairly soon, otherwise I'll forget it. He said this work would take time. What I have is only because he has started me off."

His eyes were beginning to glint and he moved a step further towards her.

"I'm sorry, I'm still a little out of it."

"_Out of it_?"  He asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Ok.ok. Just give me a second." She composed herself with her eyes closed and began to recite slowly, her voice still holding the magic of the Phoenix. 

"_I am__the Snake that giveth Knowledge & Delight and Bright Glory, stirring the hearts of men with drunkenness, _

_And while tending the creation of the world, reveal that the pain of division is as nothing, and the joy of dissolution all. _

_Be thou my secret centre, my heart & my tongue! O splendrous serpent! They are as upon the earth; I am Heaven."_

When she opened her eyes, he was staring into space, looking totally stunned.

**Poetry at end - misquotations from :  Liber AL vel Legis.                             **


	6. a bird in the hand is worth two in the b...

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

Elrin Danse is my own creation, as well as the story.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush 

Chapter Six

The Potions Master did not stop to speak to Elrin but swept out through the office door just as the Headmaster came through it, his robes billowing out as he dived down the stairs. She felt a little disconcerted, but Albus took her by the arm and set her down for a tea and chat about how she was getting on and did not ask about why either of them were there or what it was that had happened. Relieved and not wanting to discuss it, she stayed to talk with him and Fawkes for quite a while, glad to feel at ease. The wondrous sound that she had experienced and which was in fact still hurtling through her blood had thumped something deep within her: pushed her into a state of mild bewilderment: a blurred form of shock she supposed. She felt that she was sane, and yet the sound was still there, booming and roaring through her soul. It made her think of the Slytherin Common Room, not knowing why, except that it had a connection to it. She needed time to absorb this shaking of her foundations, this vibration which seemed to shake the very centre of the world itself: to settle it into her body and her thoughts.  The heady verse that had come out at the end had echoed though her as well, stirring up secrets from the hidden chasms of her psyche but Severus' reaction appeared dramatic. He had been hit hard by the poem: the look on his face totally unreadable. No clue then: but was the response good or bad?

She knew there was nothing to be afraid of in this resonance. It was rather like Severus in it's nature - tempestuous, dangerous, intense, only with this sound there was an equally potent tenderness and a beauty so fine that the two together made some kind of fierce harmony and more astounding than either of them as separate powers. The tea and scones that the old man pushed gently onto her was welcome and his deep kindness balanced her wandering mind until, feeling more solid and stable, she thanked him, and retired to her room. Throwing herself into the comfort of her bed, she was aware of the fact that the day had not been a total disaster. In fact, with the exception of his sudden departure after her translation, it had been quite a day.  

The next morning she was awoken early by an owl that hammered on her window and which thrust its way in when she opened it, bringing in a flurry of snow. It must have been freezing out, because he was gripping tight to the parchment, or was it because, as she found out when she read it, that it was Severus' black owl? 

_Elrin,_

_Attendance, my office, 9 o'clock this morning. _

Severus Snape 

It wasn't a question, so she didn't answer it. So the owl returned into the blizzard, empty clawed.__

_Short and harsh. Should she have expected anything else? Didn't he have classes? _

At breakfast, he was obviously perturbed by her lack of response to his note and he bent down so speak so close to her that she felt his hot breath in her ear. 

Don't do that. Have you any idea what that does to me?

He asked in his low voice if she was available at nine and not engaged elsewhere, and she, feeling stronger that morning and proud of not bending to him too easily, told him coolly that she was at his disposal without turning her head, continuing to eat her scrambled eggs undisturbed.

Not to be disposed of, mind. 

So after breakfast she once again entered his office as he was sorting out what looked like an assortment of bottled jars full of mysterious liquids and objects. The light in the dungeons was not much brighter than it had been in the evening, though it was still dark with snow outside. He appeared to be busy but glanced up as she stood before him, and talked to her as he opened and sniffed and rattled jars.

"Damn third years, always stealing property," he sneered. Think they know what they are doing. _Idiots_," and shot one jar into a bin behind him. 

There was a beautiful collection of very delicate looking scientific tubes and blown glass of various sizes on one table that she moved towards, curious.

"I _recommend_ that you do not go near those," he growled a warning. "They belong to a particularly fine collection of mine. I do not wish them broken."

"And you think that I am likely to?" 

_What does he think I am? Ms. Clumsy?_

"I would not rate your chances of survival if you did," he muttered, cursing at yet another student's inconsiderateness in leaving a perfectly good jar of lionfish bladders open. That jar hit the bin with a crash.

"Severus, are you going to tell me.." she began, but was unable to finish.

"No, he snapped, not looking up from his work, "I am not. I do not wish to speak of it." 

"Very well," she acceded, " but would it…"

"No," he said glaring at her dangerously, his hands spread on the table, his face stony. "I have made my wishes clear. And there is an end to it, " 

_What was there in his eyes? Defiance but something else. Something she had not seen before in those black depths._

At her still silence, he growled, exasperated beyond his normal limit. "It is irrelevant to the research."

She nodded outwardly.

_Still want to know though._

He was very eager for her to be here this morning.

"I don't have classes until this afternoon, so we can get down to some work."

"On the parchments." Part of her was dreading this. Fawkes said that it would not be easy. 

_With him breathing down her neck._

"Yes, on the parchments," he said, irritated at her density, paused in his inspection, and then said "Are you going to be – _difficult_?"

Difficult? He is asking her if she is going to be difficult?

"In what way?"                  

The answer confirmed his suspicions and he glared at her. Then it dawned on Elrin that he was struggling to hold himself in check, to lower his habitual hostility and she smiled inside. 

_Hah! Boot on the other foot now. He needed her to translate. He had nearly – assaulted her. He had been so sure that either she was a plant or she was a fraud and now he needed her. Which meant that.._

"If you are going to make strange sounds like yesterday's performance, perhaps I should put a Silencing Charm on the door," he suggested with a certain mockery to his voice. It sounded like a sense of humour. 

_The Phoenix was not someone to disrespect: he had better not scorn those 'strange sounds.'_

He saw her scowl and sighed. 

"I respect Fawkes. I do not scorn him or his ways," he said with a deep mock bow hand on chest, his hair flopping down over his face.

Was he making fun of her?

Wary, she decided to ignore the remark and positioned herself by the fire since he did not invite her to make herself comfortable.

"No mysterious noises. Just silence."

She could almost hear him breath a sigh of relief, though he made no sound.

"I will give you the translation if you will write the notes," she suggested. "I am afraid of forgetting what I receive. As I have said, this may take some time."

He then left the stacking of equipment and stock, took another parchment from his collection and joined her in the opposite chair with a small notebook, some scrolls as well as writing equipment. "I will read unless you speak."

It was her turn for relief. He waiting impatiently while she 'performed' was hardly ideal. In fact sitting so close, almost knee to knee was already disturbing, the bottom of their robes mingling on the rug below. She settled down with the new parchment that was not quite as delicate as the last and was a whole piece, not a fragment, closed her eyes and tried to tune in to the sound that Fawkes had uttered. It took her some minutes, and he read as she struggling inwardly to forget his presence and the sound of her own heartbeat. Smelling nutmeg mixed together with his male scent kept her mind preoccupied for a while. Then the memory of the Phoenix song began to engross her again, her body relaxing, and slowly, very, very slowly came one word, then two.  It was coming quicker than she thought.

"_In it is the secret & not in the English_." She could hear the scratch of his quill in a small bound book.

"_And this shall be_ _printed beautifully in red ink and black upon beautiful paper made by hand_. 

She waited for the next, thrilled now. As she became excited, nothing came for a quite a few minutes. After she became composed, it began again and then as the next passage shifted into her mind, she hesitated. Slowly it came:

_"The rituals shall be half known and half concealed:_ _the Star and the Serpent are one and not two;_

_Nor let the fools mistake love; for there are love and love_." 

She could hear him shift in the chair. 

_Uncomfortable? Talking about love? Not what you expected?_

However, she could still hear him writing. 

" _There is the Star, and there is the Serpent," _she continued, and gradually, piece-by-piece it came, taking what seemed like hours.__

Her body wanted to arch with pleasure at the next words.

 "_He is the secret Serpent coiled about to spring: in his coiling there is joy. If he lifts up his head, he and she are one. _

_If he droops down his head at her, and shoots forth venom, then is rapture of the earth, and they and the earth are one."_

The phrases dropped in, one by one.

_Concentrate. Concentrate. Could he not feel the intensity in_ _this text that was almost taking over her body? _

What did Fawkes say about honesty? 

Then she halted.

"Continue, do not hold it back," snapped the intimately close voice, the sound a physical shock, so deep was she.  Have held on desperately to her composure while speaking the last words, she frowned.

_If she did not retain a hold of herself, he would be very sorry indeed._

She breathed slowly and continued.

_"The work of the cauldron and the work of the wand; these he shall learn and teach but he may make severe the ordeals."_

She thought of him immediately.

_No, surely, someone else_. _Thousands of years old. Silly._

Some compelling thought must have struck him too, because there was suddenly no scratching of quill.

_"The Star comes from nowhere and the Serpent knows where he is."_

Still no scratching of a quill so she half opened her eyes, and he was staring into space, the feather motionless in his hand. 

"Continue," he commanded immediately, recovering, writing fast. Several minutes passed.

_"There are four gates to one palace;_

_The floor of that palace is of silver and gold;_

_Lapis lazuli & jasper are there; and all rare scents;_

_Jasmine & rose, and the emblems of death."_

_"Op- opo-nax." S_he stumbled at the word. 

_That can't be right._

_"And Kyphi."_

She opened her eyes again to be met with two glaring black eyes and hurriedly closed them again.

"_Eye of Salamander, root of Inkberry, Scorpion's Tongue and Cranberry, seek ye in the moon's tide_."

"_Inhibit the first, dice the second, crush the third and do not sink the forth_."

"_The gross must pass through fire_;" 

And heard him grunt with satisfaction. 

_Something must be right then._

She continued:

_"The number is nine by the fools; but with the just is eight, and one in eight, solve the first half of the equation, leave the second unattacked." _

There was more detail, more herbs, and more strange ingredients. They had been at it slowly for some time. She was beginning to tire. If she opened her eyes he might snap at her.

_ So?_

So she opened her eyes slowly. He was still writing.

"Am I slow enough for you? "

"It is sufficient," he said as he finished.

"Are some of the names alright? That Op something."

"They are recognisable. Whether they are correct, remains to be seen."

_Quite._

_"_Opoponax_. _Wards off evil influences. Kyphi – ancient Egyptian – ceremonial," he explained, and then become aware of the fact that she was boldly looking at him.

"You have stopped," he said accusingly.

"I can do no more for the moment." She lifted her chin. There was no way he would get her to compromise on this. He must have seen the look in her eye or the set of her mouth because he yielded, though reluctantly.

"Very well, that will be sufficient for the day," he said. "I will begin to make a potion and collect these ingredients. Eye of Salamander might be hard to track down," Then wandered off into his Potions mind, presumably organizing how to obtain what he needed, ignoring her. Moments passed.

_That must be it then. He had gone into his reverie, leaving her there._

 She was about to get up to leave when he spoke, breaking the quiet. 

"Would you take a drink?" Both the question and its accompanying civility jerked her out of her inertia. 

What a shock.

"Yes, I would, thank you. Coffee please, black, no sugar." He approved by the look on his face and made a movement with his hand and a cauldron that had been bubbling away quietly, tipped hot liquid into goblets ready for his collection. She was grateful for his apparent lack of aggression towards her, as she felt surprisingly vulnerable. Opening herself like this to this curious language and her inner self, meant that she did not also want to battle with him at this moment, despite her new found strength since the day before.

His need in this matter must be great. No wonder he had been fearful of her, no wonder he had tested her. She must have got something right. He was holding himself back because of his precious parchments. Holding back so he didn't crush her and wipe out the information. It must be hard on him, to be this courteous. _Tough._

"Four gates to one palace – that is that glass instrument over there, the biggest one – one that I did not want you to go near," he said, handing her the hot goblet. " It has four glass connections to it and a base made of a mixture of silver and gold, blown in with the glass. He spoke with unselfconscious pride. "The last thing to be made in it –" and stopped abruptly, staring at his coffee. Then he avoided looking at her for the next few minutes and turned the subject away from it and talked about some of the bizarre ingredients and their origins.

Did he trust her then? Doubtful, but the poem had shifted something in him. 

She had the impression, though it was only an intuition, that he had recognized it, and accepted its authenticity. 

I'm bloody sure of it. 

She wished he would talk about it. He was evidently used to being a closed shop, holding everything tightly in with bars and shields and armoured weapons. Though what they were doing seemed to enable him to lower them fractionally, as he talked about the making of the potion: his face opening up. Despite the fact that he was gesticulated his annoyance and his impatience about obtaining certain ingredients; it was tempered by his dark enthusiasm. She had never heard anyone passionate before; she had never been that passionate about anything in her life. It was engaging, and she listened and tried to understand what he was saying, sipping the hot coffee.They were deep in the conversation, when a knocking interrupted them. Impatiently he jerked his head. 

"A morning off, and they think they can disturb me with impunity," he sneered. "Come," he barked, unmoving.

It was strange, being almost on his side instead of being the recipient of his anger, as if seeing the world from his angle, and it felt curiously safe, very safe.

Remus strolled into the office, his good-natured face smiling, which Severus did not return, but neither did he scowl. 

"Ah, Lupin," he said, immediately getting up. "You have saved me a journey. Your potion is ready."

"Thank you" said Remus, but walked over to her, sitting down where Severus had been.

"And how are you Elrin?" he asked as the potions expert busied himself in the corner of the room.

"Very well thank you," she replied smiling, his grin infectious. She felt she needed to balance what he must have understood from their last conversation. They had a short talk about the weather and he made her laugh and they chatted on.  He looked tired, his face unshaved, his spirits slightly on edge she thought, though still cheerful.

_Must be that time of the month._

Severus approached with his potion but she was surprised to see a malicious look on his face as he handed it over. 

Was there something unhealthy in that drink?

"Drink it now, Lupin," he commanded. From his earlier neutrality, he seemed to have changed to wanting his removal. Remus, however, seemed to have had other plans, and the tension increased as Remus swirled the liquid inside the goblet and lounged back, and it was then that she decided that it was time to make herself scarce.__

"Severus," she said getting up, her hand automatically touching his arm as she spoke to him. He flinched and moved it away.

_Oh hell, big mistake. We were getting along quite well._

"I am going to go now."

He flashed daggers at Lupin behind her and turned back to his work. She knew they had a history of anger between them, but Remus was teasing him unnecessarily. 

"Very well," he said curtly, banging jars about on the table.

So the weeks went by as they continued the study, she translating, halting and retreating, and he scribing in contained impatience, having coffee together afterwards and going over some of the points. He continued to turn into 'Mr.Crabby', sometimes, but mostly he was absorbed in their mission and he told her that it had been a long time since he had been on such a fascinating investigation and never one so vital. He did not say it was his dream, because he didn't need to, it was written on his face. His main cauldron was on the boil for most of the time, and he described to her the basic elements of what was happening. She had assumed that he was a bad teacher from his reputation, but he appeared to have a poetic way of understanding things and with her enough patience providing she listened carefully. She was in turn fascinated and went about their business calmly and practically, helping him chop and weigh and stir when he needed to attend to something else or research in the library when it was required. This was, apparently, the first of the several potions in the manuscript, and he was anxious that this one would be perfect.

Early one evening she arrived for their usual session and spotted something in the corner of the room. She let out a little sound of surprise as she came across a bridle lying amongst a pile of books. He looked up from his work. 

"You have a horse?" she asked, picking it up.

"That is what bridles are for – yes," he replied tetchily.

"At the school here?" 

Why am I so surprised? A broomstick she could imagine, but a horse? 

"Yes," he said, irritable at the interruption.

Since he was not one for small talk he continued writing at his desk, but there must have been something in her voice because he asked, "Do you ride?"

"Yes." She said, fondling and smelling the bridle. The leather was well kept, soft and polished, the bit was quite old fashioned and pitted, but was well scrubbed.

Tack had such a beautiful smell.

 He watched her from underneath his hair, quill motionless.

"Are you capable?"

She paused. "I am capable." She prided herself on her horsemanship, but she was not going to say so. At home, it had been a family joke. They had felt it was a pretentious hobby for someone like her.

" I used to go riding quite a bit in the country, but since I've been living in a city I haven't had the opportunity." She put the bridle down reluctantly, as if parting from something rather cherished. Severus shifted uncomfortably in his chair and then said almost resentfully, "Minerva has a mount in the stables and doesn't always have the time to take it out – maybe she would allow you to exercise it once in a while." 

She flushed, excited.

"Oh, that would be wonderful." Her delight was so evident that he put down his quill and regarded her for a moment. He hesitated, and then plunged.

"I am going out tomorrow morning – early mind you – if you would care to accompany me. The weather outside is more settled. Assuming Minerva is amenable naturally," he said, already regretting it.

She hid her shock carefully, thanked him, and both hurriedly went about their business. Later in the day, Minerva quizzed her about her abilities, and then agreed, offering to lend Elrin boots and trousers.

"What size are they?" she had asked.

 "We will make them fit," Minerva replied, pursing her lips, slightly exasperated at the half-witch. But she made it known that she was very glad that her precious 'Xelda' would be exercised and had the confidence that she would be safe with Elrin.

"Too many oats for her and she'll be getting fat. Go and enjoy, my dear." 

They mounted up in the small courtyard in the east wing with its cobbled stones, still covered with snow. Severus swung up into the saddle, black cloak waving over his mount's hindquarters, boots gripping hard as the horse was excited at the thought of going out and he had to control him, the horse's mouth gaping and salivating, fighting the bit. Holding him with a tight rein, he swore at him and impatiently twisted in the saddle to see if she was ready. Both of them were well wrapped against the cold with thick scarves wrapped several times round their necks, leather gloves and boots, no hats. He was all black: black hair, clothes, and together with black horse was sharply silhouetted against the white of the snow like some kind of winged predator. She was on Minerva's chestnut mare that she presumed had been chosen because it was a Gryffindor colour. In order to help keep her warm she had let her hair loose and her cloak fell down around her. Once she was on her mount, it was as if she had never been off, with its good horse smell and the feel of its thick winter coat.

Their warm breaths, both animal and human, shot through the freezing air in white clouds as they clipped their way out of the tunnelled entrance. The snow muffled the sound of horse's hooves in the cold daybreak as they walked out the side of the school. She felt her mount underneath her and was delighted by her springy gait and the comfortable saddle. Compared to Severus' more temperamental animal, hers was very well mannered, her eagerness proudly restrained. It was, she thought with amusement, typical Minerva: no horse would dare to be otherwise. His, however, reflected his more excessive character as it champed at the bit, bouncing sideways across the grounds, or perhaps he chose it as a challenge?

Mists remained around the grounds, clouding the trees of the Forbidden Forest with its grey and an owl glided out of them making its way past, the horses flinching. No one was about except Hagrid dragging some branches at the back of his hut – she waved and Severus nodded. Heading out past the frozen lake, they made their way slowly over the grounds into wider territory. 

As the school receded, Severus moved his mount on to trot, snow kicking up behind, and she followed. Soon they wound through a deep valley, the hills high up above them still half hidden in mist. He was having difficulty holding his mount back, the horse nodding its head in impatience. Just like him, she thought, and then he let him canter slowly along the narrow winding paths, the movement a rocking motion, all black hindquarters and long swishing tail. Severus rode well, with a good deep seat, she noticed. Something in her stirred at the sight of him and despite the cold, she blushed. He took that moment to glance in her direction and she desperately concentrated on the scenery, glad of the distraction of moving faster. Her own mount acted coolly andcantered sedately along, her motion easy, with her mane flowing out just as her own hair bounced out behind her and Elrin's body became comfortably rhythmic with the strides of the mare and she listened to the thump of the hooves sounding along the path as they rode along, scattering rabbits and other unwary creatures. Through paths and coverts, winding up hill slightly, then down, turning and twisting, having to duck in places with overhanging branches, him slowing to check her now and again, but never overtly: just a swift glance back as he turned down a particular route. 

They went along in file this way for quite a while, and then further into lighter woody areas. At a particular fork, he jerked his arm, pointing to the other path, and she got there before him, cantered faster along it and he gave chase. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't care: there was just the cold, cold wind and the heat of the ride, her hair and cloak out wild behind her, full of joy. He passed her, in a black rush of movement at a wider area and then she chased him, turning and turning about as they burst through the untouched snow of the countryside. 

His horse was becoming more agitated, so at the opening out of a wide flat area, he nodded at her and gave his mount his head and sped away at a furious rate. For a flash she recognized a sense of pride and immediately pushed the thought away, as that sentiment would reflect a certain relationship, which she did not have, except as a colleague perhaps. She waited a second or two, and then decided to join him, kicking her mount into a gallop, the stinging wind burning her face, the mare's legs furiously moving beneath, hooves drumming. After a while he halted and she caught up breathless. Colour was both in her face and in his. His face was still impassive, but his eyes betrayed his enjoyment.  She pulled her horse to a halt, her hands stiff with cold on the reins. It was just at that moment that her mount was suddenly startled by a goose rising out of the grass honking its alarm and it shied, slipping her to the ground. One minute she was high up, the next she had her face in the snow, her cloak about her.  It had happened so quickly. The ground was hard, but the snow had softened the fall, and for a moment she was gazing at the tiny particles of snow in front of her, the tiny micro life there, busy under their feet. And then he was above her. As she could feel his hands outstretched on her back, she began to shake, and continued to shake. Then he realized she was unharmed.

"Woman, can you not keep upright? Must I always be picking you up?"

Then aloud she laughed and laughed, twisted round and lifted her hand up so he could help her up. For a second she thought maybe he would ignore it but then he grasped her and pulled her up firmly. Her breath shot out to mingle with his and they both stood there catching their breath while her laughter abated. He glowered; peering at her through his dishevelled hair, wonder as well as irritation in his face, which made her laugh even more. He still held her gloved hand in his as if by some osmosis, she might be able to calm herself. Released of their burdens, the horses had automatically stooped their necks down to sniff the ground for something to eat. As she began to sober up, she was suddenly aware of their close proximity and she looked up into his tightly controlled face, his eyes quite clearly speaking of some unnamed agitation. What was more surprising was that he did not move away: he stood stock still, slightly out of breath, his cloak hanging down to his boots that were plunged into the snow. For the first time being with him at close range, without him being intimidating towards her, she looked straight into those uneasy depths and stayed there. It was as if the cold had disappeared, the horses gone, the world deserted. The silence that fell on them was so intense that they stood staring at one another, neither one making a move until his own horse nuzzled him roughly in the back, throwing him onto her. She felt the solidity of him, thumping into her body so that they both fell in a tangle of arms and legs and cloaks. His legs were over hers and his arms on each side of her on the snow, and they were frozen there, aware of the various parts of their bodies where they touched and where they wanted to: faces nearly touching. Immobile, the warmth from his body was beginning to penetrate hers and her eyes lingered on his open mouth, so near, so very near. Then he broke the tension, hurriedly removed himself and pulled her upright, apologising abruptly. He swiftly turned, gripped his mount's bridle, and averted his face as he stroked the long nose and then dug into his pockets and fed it a carrot, the great velvet lips eagerly grasping it on his gloved palm, taking it and crunching loudly and happily. Then he made another diversion by finding one for her own jealous horse: clearly at ease with the animals, his face turned away from her when he could. A moment had come and gone for both of them and neither knew what to make of it, so they pretended that the moment had not existed. Remounting, they walked silently back to the east wing, each with their own thoughts neither one looking at the other. 

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**_Poetry – quotes and misquotations from :  Liber AL vel Legis.                             _**


	7. the professor in the library with the ca...

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

Elrin Danse is my own creation.

Chapter Seven

The Professor in the Library with the Candlestick 

The day finally came when the first potion was ready. Neither of them knew whether it would be suitable for a werewolf, but the signs in the text looked promising.

 Lupin agreed to test it as he knew Severus was the greatest Potion Maker of his time, and trusted his judgement and his ethics although he had warned him that to think it only as a potential cure, but his enthusiasm was evident. When she arrived in his office, they were both there. The Potion Maker himself had little time for the werewolf but they were both burying their animosity in their shared eagerness. Remus grinned as Elrin strode up to the pair of them, both of them looking like mischievous schoolboys.

"You're just in time!" he said, as he held up a smoking goblet and glanced at Severus, who hovered over him. "Well, here goes."

She held her breath as he drank it. As were many serious potions, it tasted appalling, and he made a face and half retched.

"Heavens, Severus, can't you make something drinkable?" he gasped, draining his goblet. "Just as well you never went into the wine making business." Severus' eyes glittered, carefully watching his face.

They chatted for a few minutes, and then just as Remus was about to leave, Severus asked him to come towards the light, and peered into his eyes with a magnifying glass. 

"How do you feel?" he asked sharply.

"Fine, actually, fine. Very good. Better than I have in a long time. Is everything all right? 

"It is early yet, however." Severus hesitated.

"What then? Tell me."

"There appears to be a degree of success." For the Potions Master this was a statement of gigantic proportions. 

"Do you mean that..?"

"It is indicative that it is so. Your pupils have altered shape. It is impossible to say with certainty at the moment, but it certainly gives the impression of being affirmative."

"Don't beat about the bush, Severus, tell me straight!" laughed Remus.

Severus' face wore his usual impassivity, but something shone out of it – something she had never seen before, and was struck by the hidden intensity of it. It had be a terrific coup for him to accomplish what no others had been able to do, to advance the cause of healing in such a difficult area. First time trial too. Again, she felt pride, but did not thrust it back where it came from this time because she had been part of the team, and instead glowed with him. In its place of his unusual glare, there was a new and indecipherable expression on his face as he glanced across at her. She imagined, that he would soon be finding Dumbledore to tell him the good news, and would tell him calmly and with sobriety, but with excitement in his heart. Was there something else in his eyes? A triumph that was crumbling his defences and that she could walk through them. 

After that, they continued work on the parchments with a little more hope, huddling by the fire in the cold chambers. She was becoming a little more fluent and there was more confidence about her, and he meticulously wrote down every word that she translated.

_"Thus we see succulent heart of the cobra lily, an inch of hyssop, and root of olibanum._

_Now think not to find them in the forest or on the mountain; but in beds of purple,_

_No fire & blood in this my incense of resinous woods & gums; and there is no blood therein._

"No blood?" She could hear him mutter, surprised. 

Taking no notice of him, she continued with her soft voice.

"_The Perfect and the Perfect are one Perfect and not two,'_

_Yet there are masked ones: An evil shall arise, and bring fresh fever from the deeps._"

She could not resist opening her eyes at this to see his reaction, but he had his eyes glued to her.

"Continue," he snapped writing feverishly, "we have no time to waste!"

"There is the flame that burns in every heart of Serpent, and in the core of every Star 

_Yet therefore in this knowledge is the knowledge of life and death."_

And more came faster this time, more sure.

_"Creeping horehound, chopped crocodile ears, venom of the hog moth is sufficient,_

_Vinpocetine with Ginseng and yet three times seven nipple of bat,_

_Bind nothing! Let them come through the first ordeal, & it will be as silver._

"There is an addition, added by a hand other than the writer," she said to him after he had finished writing.

_"When it is not practiced, it turns out to be poison."_

"What that bit means," he said afterwards in his analysis later, " is that in the precise art of potion making, that if you do not get your sums right, you mess up."

It was some time after that that he went on a special hunt for Vinpocetine and a few other ingredients in Hogsmeade. The fact that he did not appear at supper, nor at any of the mealtimes the next day did not alarm her, but as the hours wore on into the next day, she was beginning to be concerned. Lupin had covered his classes for him gleefully, to the delight of most of the students. There was no owl from him, no word, nothing. Her heart rate told her that something was not right. He would not leave his class neglected, and he would certainly have let her know what to do with the constantly simmering cauldron. Should she add more liquid to it? She panicked at the idea of being responsible for such an important potion – the second in the parchment. It had become eerie velvet green. Should it be that colour?

_What the hell am I supposed to do with this? What does he think he's doing? It's all very well him gallivanting around, leaving her to stir the pot. Success had obviously gone to his head. Was thinking of her as his personal servant now.  Someone would need to go and find him.._

Flinging down her spatula, she stormed off to see Albus. 

"_Jellybaby_," she growled at the statue and stomped up the stairs.

When she had spoke her concern to him, Albus looked at her solemnly, an enormous old tome lying out on his desk in front of him. Fawkes was asleep on his perch, head hidden under a wing, snoring.

"I am sure he will be with us soon. There is no need for concern."

"He may have had an accident or something. I am concerned for the work."

"Surely, surely," he said soothingly, which annoyed her more.

"You don't seem to be taking this very seriously Headmaster!"

"Oh, I assure you my dear, I take this very seriously indeed," and calmly placed a book back on the shelf.

As he did so, she had a jolt of memory. 

_No, that was crazy. She had got used to everything. Not that. Not what she was thinking, surely? _

She had not realized that she was staring at the old man, motionless.

_It was a memory, a fiction_. 

Albus watched her with a mixed look of compassion and sadness.

_"Is he –"she began, feeling absurd, but compelled to continue. "Is he –"?_

How could she get it out? It seemed like a ridiculous word.

_"I realize that my understanding may be completely faulty. " _

Albus gazed through his spectacles. "I do not," he said, "believe that your understanding is faulty at all."

"He is – spying for you." Now she had it out in the open, it seemed still more preposterous. Yet the comfortableness of the school had lulled her into a false sense of security. Voldemort had seemed like a caricature of a villain, far away.

_Very far away. What did she think they were doing the Potions for? Why did she think he was so paranoid that he had tested her so harshly? Crazy, crazy. What was she playing at? _

"That is correct, my dear. Would you like to sit down?"

No, she would not like to sit down 

"No thank you, Albus." Then immediately sat down.

"It's a double bluff – or is it a double, double bluff? I can never get these things right," she babbled, still in shock. 

Complaining like mad about him all this time and he could be tortured and maimed or even – dead.

"Is there no way we can help?" she appealed to the Head.

"No, my dear, we wait. I am aware that it is not easy."

Shouldn't Albus be out there waving his wand or whatever else he did? 

She couldn't understand his passivity.

Oh, Severus.

She wanted him. There. Now. In front of her: irritable, maddening and volatile, she didn't care. While secretively playing some kind of hero risking body and maybe soul, everyone thought he was a monster. She was never into hero-worship, they bored her, but perhaps that was because they were fictional ones, with no substance to them, fake screen heroes, not real life blood ones – with vulnerable flesh and blood, that could be torn apart. 

How could I have been so dense? She had known this all along, and yet must have cut herself off from knowing. Not Madam Danse, but Madam Dense.

"Albus, Is he - repaying his debts or is it that he cares about everything here?" she asked him. Not that it mattered at that moment, but her mind sought it.

"I am afraid you will have to ask him that, when he returns. For the time being, it is important that you continue to look after the potions in your care."

"I don't know what he wants me to do. I'm at my wits end."

"Then just do what you can. He will, I believe, not be much longer."

"How can you tell?"

He looked at her over his glasses, eyebrows raised.

"I have my ways. Go back to the potions, Elrin, look after yourself, and wait. I have seen this many times."

"How many times?"

"Lots of times." He said, and got up, leading her to the door. "And do not punish yourself for not realizing."

"Tell me one thing, Elrin," he said, pausing, "Those – books – of our world that you have read. Are they complete?"

"No, I'm sorry Albus. They are not."

"Ah." He said, as he watched her go down the steps.

Two evenings later as she stepped into Severus' office, she found him there by the fireside, slouched and dispirited, clutching a glass of scotch in his hand. Realizing she had entered, he turned his face towards the fire.

"Are you hurt?" she cried, rushing to him, kneeling down by his side.

He looked at her in surprise, then sneered and continued to gaze at the flames.

"No, I am not, more is the pity," he muttered. This took her aback

"Severus, I know what you do. I have been to speak to Albus."

"Oh, you do, do you? I suppose you think it's 'romantic?' There was a nasty tone in his voice, and he threw the alcohol down his throat.

"No, I think it is incredibly dangerous. But I do think…."

"I do not care what you think, _madam_," Then paused: Elrin didn't know whether to stay with him or go. 

"My presence was useless. I could do _nothing_."

She waited, and as she suspected he might, he continued speaking.

"Young girl, not even seventeen." Fragments of what happened came out slowly, as if ripping them from his own flesh.

"Four of them,_ four_." He stared at the empty glass. 

"A Muggle," he sighed. "A Muggle no more. Not anything now. " He shifted in the chair. "Although the way Voldemort is going, one Muggle is not going to be very much in the greater scheme of things," he said bitterly.

"You cared enough for one," she said, daring to put a hand on his arm that he swiftly moved as if he had been scorched.

"How do you think that makes me feel? Heroic?" he shouted. She so wanted to put her arms around him, or stroke his hair. Even if she had dared, she thought, it was unlikely that it would have helped.

"Do not condescend to touch my arm," he snarled, pulling up his sleeve to shove the sign of the Dark Mark upon it into her face. It was freshly active like a black-blooded scorch mark. That is what is there. That is what I have been, that is what I have always been. You do not want to be near it.' 

If he hadn't been angry, he would have cried, she thought, sensing his tense body beside her. The ache to hold him was almost overwhelming, but knew she had to hold back.

"You aren't any longer. You're making a difference," she said quietly.

"Well, he said, getting up abruptly, "It certainly doesn't feel like it."

Why does he have this affect on me? 

She watched him walk over to the main cauldron, turning to her. "Wait until all these potions are made. Then we will see what Voldemort can inflict after _that_." 

She hesitated, dreading telling him, waiting for the fury. "I was desperately worried about the one you left me with. It's gone a sort of livid green."

"That's fine. That's how it should be," he said and stirred it with a frightening calm.

Relief swept through her whole body.

It was some days later that Hermoine rushed up to her while she was out walking in the windswept grounds down by the lake, her cloak flying out behind her. 

"Madam Danse," she said breathless, bending down to recover.

"Catch your breath first Hermoine – that's your name isn't it?" she said, thinking she had better check. Almost the same height as she was. 

Neat, authoritative, clear face.

The girl nodded.

"The Headmaster sent me to tell you. There's been – an attack."

"_Attack_?" she cried, starting to run towards the nearest door. 

"Professor Lupin - student," she gasped. 

It can't have failed. It can't have. All the signs were right. Severus - 

She blotted out her fears as she rushed up the stairs.

If one of those damned stairs take me into the wrong place...

As she burst into the hospital wing, Poppy came towards her, her official matron manner in place. There was a bed curtained behind her.

"Now there is no need to be concerned." And she held up her hand for order and calm. "Severus is fine."

"_Severus_?" she said, shocked.

"Who did you think it was?"

"A student."

"It might very well have been if he had not subdued Remus. However, he has had a nasty gash on his leg. He will be fine. He will probably be marching, or hobbling out of here before the day is up. Poppy relaxed her manner a little to say  "I will not be able to keep him here!"

It took a while for Elrin to adjust. Everything seemed turned on its head. 

"Can I see him?"

"I think not, at the moment," she said carefully. "Later perhaps if he has not crawled out of his bed into the dungeons."

The ward looked empty with its long polished wooden floor, and the huge paintings moving quietly in their shadows, gave her the creeps. 

 She tried more persuasion, but Poppy was not to be moved.

"What about Remus?" she asked.

"Albus has taken care of him. He is out of danger, and not a danger to anyone else at the moment."

"And who was the student?"

" Draco Malfoy. He was pretty shaken by it, I can tell you, but he was unharmed. Now, may I get on with my patient?"

"Yes," she said, crestfallen, "Of course."

Things were painful for a while. Severus' humiliation at the failure of the potion was evident as he roared around the school, and the students cleared a path for him before he was anywhere near them, and many more trembled in his classes. She was cross with him for taking it out on the children and said so. He just sneered at her and made withering comments. She had been horrified by the possibilities of what might have happened, and searched and searched her head for answers to the failure of the potion. It had appeared to work; then did not. What could possibly have gone wrong? She went to see Fawkes, but he gave her the obscure advice to connect what she would not normally have connected, and not to look at the obvious.

A riddle. Great. Just what they needed.

Severus had the idea that if they went further into the parchment, that they might discover what was wrong. She disagreed, believing that the answer lay in the first one. However, he had his way, and they tackled further into the text in their customary places, and so eager was he that they sat late in the evening, one weekend.

He handed her another parchment, smaller than the other, and after a short time, she began to speak, he writing carefully.

_"I who am all pleasure and serpent green, and drunkenness of the innermost sense, desire you._

_And I charge you earnestly to come before me in a single robe,_

_Put on the wings, and arouse the coiled splendour within me: come unto me_!"

Again she felt the urge of the text, and was sure that it showed in her body and her face. She dare not open her eyes to meet his.

Too powerful, too powerful. 

Then blushed brick red as further words came slipping through and hesitated.

His command broke frostily through to her.

"Tell me. Do not inhibit it. It is not your business to do so."

Was he always watching? 

Her hands lightly touched the parchment, speaking slowly.

_"So she answered him, bending down, a lambent flame of blue, all-touching, all penetrant_

_Her lovely hands upon the black earth, & her lithe body arched for love,_

_And her soft feet not hurting the little flowers."_

She managed to control herself, her hands clutched tight in front of her.

Think of Quidditch.

She swallowed, and concentrated on giving the next piece, her voice low in the quiet room.

_"A woman shall awake the lust & worship of the Snake and let he be the adorant,_

_She is uplifted in thine heart; and the kisses of the stars rain hard upon thy body._

_Bear up in thy rapture for thou art the Lord of the Potion of Power."_

She was glad to hear him scratching away, so that his eyes would not be upon her.

Fortunately the session was shorter than most. Whether the manuscript had affected him, she could not tell because she could not look at him. He snapped his notebook closed and marched over to his potions table.

Was he reading what she was reading? Obviously not. Not that it wasn't crazy. A thousand years old document. She was the crazy one.

He gave her the coffee, then rummaged around, distracted, irritated, and eventually slammed something down on his desk. 

"This parchment doesn't seem to be helping," he snapped to no one in particular. "Damn it. It's giving me no clues whatsoever."

Appealing for inspiration into the coffee held in her hands didn't help. There appeared to be nothing she could do to. 

"It's not even philosophy," he growled, and even if it were, he said, pacing the floor, "It's vague, irrational, obscure. Maybe that's the clue, but it doesn't make sense."

They struggled on for another hour or two, going over the same ground, She checking inwardly to try and see if she was missing something or had got something wrong, while he worried about whether his ingredients were fresh enough or whether they were exactly the type needed. It was getting extremely late, and she was thinking that maybe they had both had enough.

"Are you sure," he asked, suddenly swinging aggressively towards her, "that there is nothing else on that parchment?"

That made her angry. Instead of trying to understand the content, he was criticising the messenger. She had been over it and over it, and she got the same each time. _No difference at all._

"No," she snapped, losing her composure.

He threw himself in his chair, and then said _"_There are two books in the library that might be of assistance. Pity it's closed." He thought for a few seconds. "I think a little breaking and entering is required. _Right_ _now_," he snapped, heading for the door. "Stay here while I check," he said imperiously, almost contemptuously.

"I'm coming with you," she retorted. 

"Your coming is not an option." he growled, his hair spinning as he swung round the edge of the door.

"I am coming whether you like it or not," she replied, glaring.

"Very well!" and he stormed off down the dark corridor.

As they approached the Library, he put an abrupt hand up to signal her to be quiet and stop, which she did, nearly plummeting into the back of him.

A quick '_Alohomora_,' and they were in, and then into the Restricted Section. The place was creepy at night, the shadows in an unease truce with the presence of hundreds of ancient books containing millions of ideas, of stories and potions and myths and reality. From low to high bookshelf, crammed in order was a human semblance of understanding. They had made their way in the shadows, but as soon as they were in, Severus ordered three floating candles to see by and put several wards on the door. On a second thought – after a quick glower at her, he threw a Silencing Charm as well. Elrin was sure she could see the thought shoot through his mind that he wished he could so easily silence her.

Both of them dived for the relevant shelf and nearly touched one another, avoiding it by inches. Peering by the light, they studied the texts, she sitting on a study table in between the rows of bookshelves, while he paced about, muttering and cursing. After fruitless minutes, in which they exchanged no words, he slammed his book down. 

"This is ridiculous," he sneered. "The potion failed because it was incorrect. It had to be. There is no question that the potion was made wrongly, so I infer from that, that there is _something_ _wrong_ _elsewhere_. 

She flung her book down as well.

_Infuriating. _

"As I understand it, you said 'to connect that which you normally would not connect.' What does that infer?"

"I don't know."

"I fail to comprehend how you can receive this information without understanding it. The words that we speak have meaning, yet you receive without meaning? That is not reasonable," he said, looking superior.

Maddened, she fought to halt the rising tide of anger within her.

You don't seem to understand, '_Mr.Logic_,' I don't have a hold on what I receive. It is – and searched for words – insubstantial. It has no measurement – it has no substance to be able to peer and decipher it. It is indefinable." She did not mention that she was emotionally affected by it; so sure was she that that would have been the short route to his dismissal by him of her abilities.

"Substance or no substance – _it did not work_." His voice was icy.

"I – know it did not work, that is why I want to find out why."

"Because you mistranslated something, there is no other explanation," he declared, eyes flashing.

"Oh, and it might NOT have been your potion making."

"You will regret insulting me," he hissed, " I have been a Master for two decades, and not just A Master, but The Master And _You_, you come in here – a _half-witch, _telling _me_ I am mistaken."

"All I am saying is that the mistake might have been at any stage," she returned, enraged at _half-witch._

_I speak Phoenix for Merlin's Sake._

"There were no miscalculations in my Making. The mistake is yours, so own up to it, _Lady_."

She could shout all she wanted, and no one would hear. 

"Don't you dare call me _Lady_! You patronising bastard!" she shouted at him.

Speechless, he lunged towards her. She held her ground against the table, daring him to strangle her or whatever thoughts he had in his mad eyes. 

Would he go for his wand? She'd like to see him try. 

Maddened beyond tolerance, he grabbed hold of her shoulders and thrust his mouth onto hers. 

Oh saints preserve us.

His mouth hit hers with a force that she returned instinctively, throwing her arms around his body as he grasped hers. The energy that clashed together impelled them against one of the bookcases, arms pulling, lips seeking more, legs trying to gain a dominance, him to prise her apart, her to seek the force of him. In their struggle, they knocked one of the candles in midair, and he jerked to a halt to move it, both of them in a suspended intermission, then both plunged back in, his hands pushing against her bodice and pulling on her buttocks, lifting her so that she pressed against his heat and his hardness. Suddenly he grasped one side of her face with splayed fingers and tilted it so that he could peer directly into her eyes.

What can you read? Do you need to see? 

His hand still, he moved his thumb against her lips, then dragged it back across, she panting, staring at his fascination. Her response was to grab his hair to pull his head towards her breasts; a desperate wanting flooding her whole body, her groin urging and screaming for him, her legs trying to wrap themselves round him. 

"Severus…" the sound came out of her throat like someone else's. "Severus.. I want you. I want you," she managed to gasp out, clinging to him, searching his mouth, tongue fighting with his, frustrated because she couldn't get to his neck and his chest, so tight was his buttoned up jacket, and the little white collar poking provocatively out from underneath it. She wanted to tear them away. He, however, with his mouth secured on hers, was busy removing her robe, flinging it on the floor, her hair falling down in the process, so she fought back by trying to remove his while he was crushing himself against her body, she now speechless with desire, her legs beginning to buckle under his ascendancy. His robe slid off with a hissing sound. Jamming her up against the table, he stopped to catch his breath, his lips not wanting to be parted from hers for long, his breath ragged against her cheek Recovering fast, he then dived downwards and lifted her skirt up so that her legs were exposed, one outstretched rigid arm shoving the skirt against her body and while watching her face, caressed her thighs with the other. 

"I'm not going to stop this time," he said, gaining control of the situation, his voice vibrating his authority. 

"No don't stop, don't stop, please," she begged, afraid he might back off.

"I have no intention of doing so," he replied, one of his hands moving towards her bodice, and finding himself obstructed, ordered her to make his progress more agreeable.                                 

"Remove – that _thing_."

Shaking, she removed her bodice: it was off in no time, while he thrust his fingers through his damp black hair, standing over her as if he could devour her and since she was not wearing a bra, her breasts became free underneath the light top. Plunging in again, he moulded his hands over her small weighted breasts, feeling the nipples almost crying out through the material, and moaned deep against her as if it came straight from his chest, vibrating into her own. She had her arms back against the table for support as he made his way back to her legs, stopped to glower at her, and then searched his way to the gentle roundness of her stomach down to her mound beneath the material, and as he felt the wetness there, smirked. Pulling off the knickers with her help, he threw them with their robes and searched gently, so gently stroking her outer lips and then rubbing his fingers where they would excite even more, she grasping hold of him with an arm, breathless. She felt she couldn't take more of this before she would explode. He bent down towards her face watching her still, pleased at her abandonment and her surrender.

"What is it you want?" he purred in her ear, pressing himself tight to her, his fingers still in situ: his hand warm against her belly, his breath on her hair.

"I want you, Severus, now, I want you now. Don't torture me," she panted, beginning to fight to get to his buttons, to rip them off.

Damn things, so many of them. To think I liked them.

"Now, now, patience," he said silkily, stopping her and lifted her right up on top of the table. She didn't want to let him out of her clutched hands, so he eased himself up onto the table and kneeled over her. She bent her back, wanting the pressure of him on her, wanting that hardness, not caring if she looked foolish or not, with him high above her, his hair falling over his face, eyes glittering like black stars and a strange expression on his face. Then she knew how the lioness felt when she wanted the lion to cover her. To feel his strength above and on her, possessing, protecting, burning. Her skirt had fallen down in the move, so he lifted it high again to reveal herself to him in the half-lit room. Then he sat back and began to use his tongue where she could not bear it. She could feel his nose as he searched about, licking and prodding. 

"No, no, I want _you_. I want you in me," she cried, half getting up. He pushed her firmly back down again with one arm, and she, not strong enough, succumbed. He was busy enjoying himself, then just as she wanted to scream, he thrust one knee into her groin, making her moan in despair and with the other, parted her legs.

"Is this what you want?" he teased. 

_Who would have thought the Potions Master would be a tease?_

For answer, she grabbed what she could of him, which was mostly frockcoat, and managed to get his head and thence to his mouth, which he responding with a thrust of his tongue into hers. The urgency was overwhelming, the blood pounding in her head and in her groin .She searched with frantic hands for his trouser buttons, but it appeared they were already undone, his hot manhood swollen with pride, already thrust out, twitching with desire. 

He wanted her; he wanted her.

She held him and stroked the shaft and cupped his balls so that he inhaled sharply. Now she had control of him.

Nice one Elrin.

He growled and slipped into her without pause. He had taken control back again in just one swift movement, and she was impaled up to the hilt, straight in. Breathing strongly, she grasped the rest of him to fit to her body, and wrapped her legs round his back, searching for him to get deeper and kissing his face, his lips, his eyes, his enormous nose, spreading and clutching her hands through his sweat-soaked hair. 

"Elrin.." he gasped, struggling for control.

"It's alright, my love," she whispered. He paused, looked her forcefully and slowly began to pump, and she gulped, feeling the rising tide of her own blood begin to want to overwhelm her. She was coming quicker than she thought she would. 

"Sev…" she warned, to which he began to move faster, ramming himself, the table rocking, until she cried out with a silent scream and went rigid in his arms. As he felt her inner rhythms pulsing, he came with a power that shocked him, collapsed, moaning, and like a drowning man, cried out her name into the dark of the library.


	8. distraction thy name is woman

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

Elrin Danse is my own creation and the story is my own.

Distraction Thy Name is Woman 

If an observant student had watched two people: one male and one female having breakfast at the High Table, they would have seen them mirror imaging one another, though one was at one end of the table and one at the other, with the Headmaster as pivot in the middle. They exhibited identical behaviour and were islands of inner contemplation, gazing vacantly into their untouched food. Neither spoke to their neighbour and neither looked in each other's direction: not one glance did they dare to take, as it might have been too much to bear: both frightened of the consequences of doing so. They might have crumbled, turned to salt or fused together on the spot. It was as if each were in an inner whirlwind, while outside reflected calm and peace. Flashes of the evening before came up before their eyes in multi-coloured cinematography but as neither of them had the other as a reflection, did not know if last night had truly existed or not. It was not inconceivable that both of them were under a Dream Spell. Fortunately she was sitting next to Hagrid, who apart from an initial greeting in which he received a blank face and then a half-bewildered smile, tackled his mixed grill in tactful silence and left her in peace. 

She could feel Severus' presence at the other end of the table as surely as her own, but at the same time he might also have been a world away. Indeed, her body and emotions had felt as if they had moved through a combat zone and she could still feel all the parts that he had touched as if he continued to do so. She could still feel the wetness between her legs, and was proud that she was a woman because she had a tangible reminder, and he would not. It was a comforting feeling to carry his essence around for a while and later she would need to go to Poppy for a Morning After Spell. At the thought of doing that, she felt just a little uncomfortable, like wiping him from her body. 

On her arrival at her room in the early hours of the morning the mirror in the bathroom had squeaked loudly that she wanted some of whatever she had had. However, she had nevertheless felt far from blooming, more like windswept and bewildered, a tangle of emotions and fierce memories. The gap between last night and this morning was like an uncrossable ocean, the physical absence from one another painful and more than physical. Like amoebas, they had joined and then sprung apart – but left some of their own substance behind, and she could feel it, not just in her body, but also in her heart and in her head. The absence of him and the presence of him were almost identical pains. What would happen when she had to face him in public, or just as difficult, in private? Last night they had stumbled out of the library exhausted, and were so busy attending to the practicality of getting back to their separate rooms without any ghosts or humans discovering them, that they had not resolved their embarrassment and confusion.

What am I going to do? What is he going to do? 

It felt to her that her world had shifted. Everything around her seemed different. She noticed Hermoine talking to Draco, and blinked, and suddenly it did not seem such an improbable pairing after all. She saw secret interactions amongst the students, subtle and not so subtle; those avoiding and those being drawn towards. Both of these instincts could have the same face. She noticed Hagrid's hands tenderly holding his toast, her own hands and the worn submission of the great wooden table beneath them. Looking up she saw the way the tapestries hung proudly over the assembly, the way Xiomara bent down to talk to one of the first years and the wispy winter light coming down through the windows. Everything appeared very beautiful with a meaning that was not clear, but which reached the very heart of her. The observer from the front would have noticed that the still figure on the opposite side of the table had come out of his coma and had at last come to a specific decision about a particular problem. He had taken a deep breath, put his napkin down with a graceful and a deliberate movement and glanced briefly to his left before getting up. 

Hagrid had tapped her arm to get her attention as Albus was talking to her, but she did not hear anything he said. Struggling to rise up from the waters that engulfed her, she heard something about his office, and as soon as she could. 

If only he knew what use they had put the library furniture to. 

Before he left she felt his frail hand pat her on the shoulder and saw his tender smile, before she turned to contemplate her coffee. Almost immediately, she heard Severus begin to pass behind her to leave, recognising the pace of his walk and the distinctive sound of his robes, and she held her breath at the sound, wanting him to stop, to hear his voice, to be lit in his dark presence, but was not courageous enough to turn and greet him. In fact he hesitated, and she thought he was going to bend down and speak to her as he often did, but he continued on. 

Which was she more afraid of, the rejection or the acceptance? 

Asking Hagrid what Albus had said she found that the Dumbledore wanted to see both her and Severus in his office, as soon it was convenient. Immediately guilt rose up in her face and Hagrid laughed.

"What yew bin doin' then eh?" as he polished off more toast. There was still a large pile for him to finish. He looked slightly abashed when she rushed off past curious students.

As Albus asked her to enter, she did so with trepidation but it did not appear that she was in trouble, judging by his face and since Severus had not arrived, she relaxed a little. Since the Head was busy writing a letter, she went to say hello to Fawkes, who put his head on one side and regarded her with one of his black eyes. "How are you Elrin?" he asked.

"I'm.."

Was she about to be honest or was she going to lie? 

"I'm, not sure what I am at the moment. I think the world has just turned upside down"

He nodded slowly, satisfied.

"We still haven't found out the answer as to why the first potion went wrong," she said, hoping for another hint.

"It may take a little time. It approaches. "You will do it, both of you. 

"Will we? It seems like we are going backwards."

"That is when you make the most progress, but you can't see it. Patience, dear Elrin. All in good time."

The least patient person then arrived, closed the door and she could feel him standing behind her back and was afraid to turn around. 

_Just like her first day._

At that time, she had spun around to see that manifestation of power standing there, arms folded: that critic, that black-eyed bird of prey and he had seized her soul then. In hindsight, it was easy to recognise it. 

Fawkes had said that he was her  – something or other. Had he felt the same then? No, of course not, he had been livid. 

"Ah. Good. Severus." Albus said, blotting his letter. "I will be with you in just a minute."

Then she turned around, as Severus loomed over her, close. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, but there was a look on his face that immediately worried her.

"Good morning, Elrin.  I trust you had a good night," he asked smugly, not lowing his voice, one hand negligently placed in his jacket pocket, looking down at her, delighted by her look of alarm on her face.

Turning quickly back to Fawkes, she madly thought of burying her face there as it rose in colour not unlike the feathers before her.

Die. Die. 

"Good morning. Yes, thank you," she replied, trying to keep the tension out of her voice, but since she was determined not to let him disconcert her, but knowing she was making things worse added, "We worked well into the night." 

"Yes," he said silkily suggestive, "we did, didn't we?"

Bastard. He was a master at this game: not a good idea to join in. What does he think he was playing at? 

Her hands were shaking, and she gave them something to do by fiddling with Fawkes' water bowl.****

In front of Albus of all people.

As she struggled to gain control of her composure, she turned towards him, while he stood there boldly appraising her, making her more and more uncomfortable. He looked at her with recollection in his eyes and it seemed to her as if it what was there was visible for all to see. Being bound up was nothing: this was torture.

None of this was right. This was not how it was supposed to be. As if she were – as if she were – a mouse and he the cat, only he was the serpent and she the – what? The serpent and the – 

Something echoed in her mind, but the thought vanished as it came.

If he was trying to distance her, he was doing a good job.

Albus was still ferreting amongst some books, his back to them, so she mouthed 'stop it' at him and pushed his chest with her hand and he jeered at her silently.

The Headmaster had finished with his business and was walking towards them. 

"Let us all have a seat. I would like to discuss a few things if you don't mind," he said with a casualness that betrayed the critical subject matter. Immediately they all made for a chair. She wanted the seat beside Severus so that she would not be facing him, but Dumbledore was nearer, and shehad no choice. All outer coolness herself, she sat facing both of them and crossed her legs, the Potion Master's eyes following their motion beneath her long skirt.__

He was against her breasts, moaning, not a few hours ago.

"I wanted to inform you that Lupin is much better," he began, stroking his beard and eyeing both of them. "His spell in St. Mungo's will soon be coming to an end. As always, Severus, the usual potion that you supplied has done the trick. It was a little touch and go, but he has pulled through. When he is discharged, he will come here to you for his usual dose but – discreetly. Unfortunately, and he paused, "he will be unable to continue teaching. At least until I have addressed the governing board."

"Do you think it is likely that he will be reinstated? After all, it wasn't his fault," she asked. 

It seemed so unfair. He was such a good teacher. 

 "No, it was my fault," Severus observed, serious now.

"It was mine as well," she countered.

"It was _my_ responsibility," he said bitterly. She couldn't argue with that. Then Albus put his hand up for silence.

"I truthfully cannot tell you whether they will accept him or not. However, I will do my best. Which is all of us can ever do," he said sternly, looking at both of them.

"We don't know why it went wrong," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the old man. "Neither of us."****

"My children," he said, "This is an enormous undertaking. Do not underestimate it. Give it time."

"We don't have time," growled the Potions Master.

"We are always given the time we need."

Dumbledore was giving her a similar answer as Fawkes.  How odd. Well, they were both very old. Perhaps that's you got like at that when you were in your old age. Not her Aunt Dorothy though, definitely not.

"It is important," he emphasised, "to slow down."

Severus frowned, raking his hands through his hair, but he wasn't a potions expert for nothing. He knew the value of evaluation and consolidation.

_She had thrust her hands through that hair, and pulled him to her._

The rise and fall of his steady breathing made her ache to lie on his chest and she could feel her body immediately respond. 

_For heaven's sake listen to Dumbledore._

"Voldemort is getting itchy," the younger man growled.

"No doubt," Albus replied, " but it will not help to drum to his tune." "We," and he nodded to include Elrin in this, "will make our own way," and tilted his head up, to scrutinize them resolutely through his glasses.

"What about Draco Malfoy?" asked Severus turning towards the Headmaster. The sensual movement of his body caught her off guard.

Just a small movement, and it sent her rocketing into outer space. Pull yourself together woman.****

"Lucius is going to be livid."

"Yes," said Albus dryly. "He probably is. Though we could hardly blame him in the circumstances."

"Stupid boy shouldn't have been out of bounds in the first place," Severus replied scornfully, "What did the boy think he was doing in that tower? Up to no good, no doubt."

Hypocrite. 

Albus shrugged lightly. Her guess was that he already knew. 

The old boy kept an awful lot to himself.

"Possibly. If you had not been around, I do not like to imagine what might have happened. How is your leg by the way?"

"Poppy sorted it. It wasn't significant."

Humph. Enough for Poppy to fuss around him.

"Good. Good. Now, I want you two to just continue as you are."

Since that had a double meaning for both of them, both averted their eyes from Dumbledore, and since neither of them was looking at him, did notsee him raise both his white eyebrows at Fawkes.

"Oh, and I nearly forgot, there is the Valentines Day Ball to be arranged," he said gleefully, clapping his hands.

Severus groaned. 

"I know it's not easy my good friend. Bear up," he said mischievously.

Bear up indeed.

The time that she dreaded most, being alone together as they both entered the corridor outside the office, was upon her.  As soon as they started to walk along together, he turned to speak to her.

"Severus," Elrin spoke to cut him off, her voice hiding her hurt but not the fury that was rising in her.

"I don't think, he said brusquely interrupting her in turn, mocking her anger with one eyebrow raised, "that we can afford _distractions_. Do you? ?" and glared at her, not wanting any other answer.

_Distractions?_ _He had cried out her name._

He continued speaking but she did not hear. Instead she heard the slamming of bolts and the rattling of shutters in her ears.

_But he had opened himself. She had felt him. She knew his heart, or did she?_

She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it.

Things were fitting into place. He had plundered her, spent his damned up passion, and now he wanted nothing.

What could she say? Then the anger rose within her, blocking out her humiliation.

"We have a lot of work to do," she said, fuming.

"We do indeed," he agreed. "I will expect you at 2 o'clock this afternoon," his voice precise and silky cold.

Dismiss her like that would he? She would bring him to his knees.  She would have him crying out again for her, like it or not.

Then she stormed off, her boots echoing in the empty corridor, leaving him standing. What she didn't see was him lean against a side pillar, bow his head, and then turn to watch her retreating back as her robes billowed out behind her.

Deliberately staying away from him for most of the day should have helped, but it didn't: the draw of him pulled her towards the dungeon as urgent as ever. Well muffled in scarf and cloak as it was still fairly cold, she walked out on the grounds that was soaked with the rain from the night before, trying to clear her head and her heart, both having the properties of lead. He had dismissed last night abruptly, had banished it as a 'distraction' and the ghost of the potion that didn't work hovered between them. He had started the second potion from the second parchment in between classes. The third part was the next piece to be translated and she dreaded it; to be seated so, so near, yet to be so far apart. Her body ached inside and there appeared to be no treatment for it. 

_Had he felt anything at all? Was she fooling herself?_

She stared at the grey lake, dark shadows appearing and disappearing frequently, with odd glints on the water's surface. The high mountains that surrounded the school had only some snow on them now, as the season gradually changed, for she could smell the dank wet smell rising up from the earth and the vegetation, rich and fertile. It would be a good day to ride, and remembered the day of the snow and her heart fell down another step. There had been no indication from him that he wanted her, ever, except on that day. Then she had felt his desire, the magnetic pull between them. There was no mistake about that. And then last night, with him in a fury, breaking the tight control he always had on himself, his horse bolting.

Fool. It was just a one night's stand, that's all. So deal with it.

There was nothing there but her dreams, and it was time to wake up.

"Hello Elrin." Came a deep voice, and when she turned her head, found Hagrid standing there beside her with concern on his bushy face. She greeted him, glad for a little company, and he sat down on a nearby rock, so that he was more on an eyelevel with her.

_How often did he have to do that?_

It was better to be downwind of Hagrid if he had been dealing with Blasted Skrewts, but today was not one of those times.

"I hear yeah a researcher for Phoenix?" 

It seemed the usual useful greeting, and she was grateful that she had some sort of positive label to be identified with.

"Yes, I am."

"Ay, top birds 'em"

"Top birds indeed," she agreed. 

"I got summat for yeh," he said as he pulled out the most beautiful small bat from inside his gigantic clothes. It was nodding and shaking and it was in the palm of his hand, so tiny and delicate, she was amazed that someone of Hagrid's size could handle it and not harm it.

"It's so beautiful," she cried, delighted. "Is it ill, to shake like that?"

"It's fine, just sunlight an' it'll be fine soon as it's inside my coat."

She remembered his predilection for dangerous creatures.

"Is it a vampire bat?"

He laughed. "Nah, just an ordinary one. Can't do much. Goin' ta be devoured by Fang, so thought I'd look after it for a while."

"They give the impression of being so ancient don't they? Like a remnant from the beginning of the world: like little dinosaurs with tiny, tiny legs and fingers and a furry body."

 "Thought you'd like tha'," he said, stretching his enormous beard into a wide grin." Would yer like 'im?"

"Thank you Hagrid, I think not. I would love it, but my future is very uncertain. It wouldn't be fair on the little guy," and looked at it wistfully.

So far away was her old life and seemed so many centuries ago, that it was if she had come from the dark, from nothing, from nowhere.

"I'm not sure if I really belong here," she said quietly. "I'm not sure if I should be here or not. I feel at home, but don't know if at any moment, I will be whisked away, just as I came. Then I would be back with my people." Hagrid looked at the droop of her shoulders.

"Muggle upbringin' yeah?"

"That's right," she said with a little distaste, thinking of her family.

"Muggles are not so bad, some of 'em. Yeh've got the Dursleys, but yeh've also got the Grangers. Nice, good people.

"I know," she sighed. "Mine were more like the Dursleys than the Grangers, and in fact, truth be told, less interesting. I'm so sorry. I'm here moping. I'm so lucky to be here," she said, with a tight smile, thinking that in a few minutes she would have to go to the dungeons. "I'm to continue to do research with Severus." She must have leaked some sadness or pain, because he paused in stroking the bat with his massive little finger and looked up at her.

"You've got a thing 'bout him haven't you?" he said. She gaped at him in surprise.

"Nothin' much gets past me yer know," And tapped the side of his nose. She giggled.

"I thought so, but I was mistaken. It's not exactly reciprocated, " and made a noise that could have been a laugh.

_The way he had gently moved up above her onto the table when she wouldn't let go of his arm, so that he wouldn't crush her._

"He's a bit of a strange one, our Severus. Grant you that. Very knotty. Seen 'im go through some stuff I 'ave."

Knotty. Good one Hagrid.

"What stuff?"

"Well, I can't really say, yer know, have ta keep 'is privacy, if yer see what I mean," he said. "Just he's bin through the mill he 'as. He snaps and bites a bit – like a Hippogriff when angry." A faraway blissful look appeared on Hagrid's face. "Yeah don't wanna mess with 'em. Very proud. Wonderful fliers. Ye hafta look em straight in the eye and respect em otherwise they'll have yer head off!" Then laughed, rubbing his arm as if nursing the memory of an old wound.  "But, then, when they're sure of you, they'll be the most faithful o' pets."

_Nice idea, a Potions Master for a pet. _

"He's bin on 'is own for so long, like me I suppose, then fer someone beautiful like you ta be around a lot must trouble him. In fact, I've noticed he gets very troubled around you. I've never seen 'im so disturbed before, never."

"Beautiful!" she laughed, slapping her knees. "I think you are very kind, Hagrid. I don't think so. I was always the scrap of the family, some sort of alien."

"Yea, well there's naught so blind as those close ta yeah, that's what I always think."

_Perhaps everyone looked beautiful to Hagrid._ _Mind you, he was pretty beautiful himself with his gigantic hair and his loving heart._

"Oh, by the way," she said, remembering, " I don't have much to do with the trio, Harry, Hermione and Ron, how are they?"

"Well, they've bin goin' though a sticky patch at the moment, but they'll be fine. Jus' fine. Why d'yer ask? He asked, panic in his voice. "D'ya know somethin's wrong?" He looked at her alarmed.

"No, no, I was just asking. I know you keep an eye out for them. It's just that I don't have much to do with them – being in Slytherin House."

"Aww. Right." Relief from the big man.

"You don't think it's a strange thing for a Slytherin to ask – about Gryffindors?"

"Nah, I don't. It's a difficult house: always powerful, and as yer know, power can corrupt.

"What about all those dark wizards that came out of it?" 

"There've bin only a handful. Mind you, them's enough. Most of 'em come out as people of influence (good or bad) and sometimes geniuses in all sorts of professions. But when they makem twisted, they makem very dark indeed. It's a warp of what it should be, in my opinion."

"You don't think I'm a spy for Severus, asking about Gryffindors?

He gwarfed into his beard. 

"Severus thought I was a spy," she said, "for Volde – for _You Know Who_.  His hostility came from his suspicion that my integrity and my loyalties were not as they should be. 

"Did he? How incredible," he said with astonishment. "Anyways, Dumbledore trusts you."

"Severus said he couldn't _read_ me."

"He's good at that, I'll say 'at fer him. He usually sniffs out summat out o the ordinary. He likes rules, does our Severus, 'cause I suppose he's seen a world without it. That's is his safety. Summat ta cling onta in times o' trouble. What makes him mad is  – I dunno - something irregular – summat not in his rulebook. An he has seen a whole lot o trouble he has. He usually ferrets out someone whose hiding somethin' or summat he don't understand. He's like a female Hippogriff with little 'uns! Dangerous beasts they are.

 "I don't have anything to hide."

"We _all_ got sumpin' ta hide, Elrin. You tell him 'bout how yer feel, eh?"

It was enough for her to just look at him without speaking, but added "Though I think he knows by now."

"There yar are then. Stands ter reason."

"Or praps it's somepin' yer don't know yer hidin."

"Then I wouldn't be hiding it would I?"

"Nah, but he would smell somethin' if there was summat he couldn't understand it. Enrages him. Very sensitive nose he has, no doubt 'bout that."

No doubt about that. She blocked the image quickly.

"Hiding what?"

"Oh, I dunno. "Well, I can play my tin whistle now. Not bad I am. But didn't used ta. Didn't know I could. So I could have, but didn't know it, see? I' just talki' aloud suppose. Nonsense really."

"Anyway, I don't really think he is suspicious of me now, at least not too much anyway."

_Doesn't have much choice does he? He's just contemptuous of her._

"Should think not indeed." Still," he said putting the bat inside his coat "I got the feelin' there's more to it than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Jus' a feelin," he said, as they could hear a 'plop' in the water in front of them.

"Doesn't want his world turned upside down," as he remembered when his own had turned topsy-turvy.

_'His' world upside down?_

"I am afraid I think you are seeing more than is there," she said, pulling at a piece of grass.

But Hagrid was getting well into his philosophical mode now.

"He's like a soldier in a way. Yeah, gun at the ready, sleepi' with it under 'is pillow – ready at a moments notice, waitin' for the call. Reckon he'd like ta shoot a few students eh?" and laughed, coughing and wheezing.

"Or – or, like a priest, yeah, with those priest-hood robes of his, all encased in black, all chaste, kinda pure, yeah know?"

Banging against the bookcases, almost knocking the books off their shelves.

She was laughing so much that she was beginning to revive. Hagrid went on.

"Yeah know, all those brews and mysterious signs and secret symbols. Dedicated. Never much good at it meself mind," he said, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "But he's good. Brilliant they say. The best. Then you come along and yeah shift the world for him."

At that she had to suffocate herself in her scarf to stop herself laughing.

"Not easy, having someone around, moving your things, questioning you, messing up your whole routine. Don't know where you are. Yeah think you know where you are, and then – suddenly – you're all over the place!" he said, throwing his arms around, thinking of the mighty Madam Maxine. Like losin' control. He wouldn't like that now would he? I know, I bin there! Just fer a short time mind. But I remember. And it were a nasty shock I can tell yer." Then suddenly he got up, realising the time. 

"Ah well, Gotta go now. Put some fencin' up over in the back paddock'. Are yeh all right?" And he heaved himself up from the rock. She was very all right, and smiled gratefully. 

What a gem. Hagrid the philosopher.

"Thank you Hagrid, you've been a great help. I will see you later," she said as he patted her on the arm and went away whistling with the tiny creature stuffed somewhere amongst that moving circus of clothes and hidden items. Cheered, she headed back over the bridge and saw a V shape of swans fly past, thinking that life was too short to be sunk in a quagmire. Besides they had work to do. She wasn't going to let Dumbledore down by reneging on her part of the task.

When she entered his office, he did not appear to be there at first.

"You're late," he growled silkily from behind her, hands in pockets, moving towards her slowly. She was about to give an excuse, but didn't think it was wise.

"I'm sorry," she said as she turned around, his spirit and his physical presence shifting her emotions into turmoil again. All that Hagrid had spoken about whirled in her head. She needed time to process it.

"I expect," he said, his voice shifting into a snarl, "that those with whom I am working, obey my instructions and _be on time_." And she thought she saw his eyes flick over her and her stomach turned over, but she had to pull herself together. She wanted to try and read what was going on there in him, but this time it was she who avoided looking straight into his eyes. Thinking that the best thing to do would be to remain silent, she went and fetched the third parchment.

At least he wasn't embarrassing her in front of anyone.  

Settling herself in her usual chair, she took a deep breath and began to concentrate. She could hear him moving about in front of her, heard the rustle of scrolls and material.

This time the parchment was different, and it took her aback. 

"Oh!" she said opening her eyes fast.

"More delays I presume? Somewhere else you wanted to be?" he said, sarcastically as he flipped through his notebook. 

"It's just that I have to make – a sound with this to access it. "

"Well, make it then," he snapped, enunciating every word. 

Don't push me.

It took her a few minutes to work out what kind of sound it was, and whether she could do it. It was a bit nerve-wracking without Fawkes. Perhaps she would need to see him. While he tapped the end of his quill against the edge of his chair, she thought about it.

"Excuse me, do you mind?" She asked, raising her eyebrows at him questioningly. Irritated, he did as she requested, and started to read one of his scrolls.

Gradually, she began to understand what was needed for the text, as she closed her eyes and concentrated. A strong sound issued from her chest – a long drawn out AAAAAAAAAAAAHH, vibrating from the centre of her chest and out through her throat and around the room, getting louder and louder, stronger and wider. It came out all in one endless sound, as she breathed in a subtle way, so that it carried on, and on and on. This mystery of this vibration spread up and down her body, bathing it in its purity. With an openness and surrender to this pulse of life, she felt the dissolution into the beauty of those coming together, a meeting of all things in relationship, one to another in completeness. This energy radiated a harmony one could only call human love, human connection and the pain and beauty of togetherness. As it spread its power to everything around her, bottles and jars rattled faintly on their shelves. 

Jarring her out of this involvement, she felt a tug at her skirt and reluctantly opened her eyes to witness Severus on the floor, one hand clutching her skirt and the other grasping his head, his notebook on the floor, and his robes all over the place. She blinked, and did not understand, He signalled for her to stop, so she did, surprised. Immediately she knelt down to him to try and find out what was wrong, but he waved her away. 

"Severus? she asked, puzzled. "What's wrong?"

He did not seem to be able to speak at first, his fingers over his face and a deathly white. 

"Do you want me to get Poppy?" 

He shook his head adamantly, furiously. She then had no option but to watch him the middle of the throes of some inner pain. She desperately wanted to do something, instead of having to stay still, as the instinct that flooded her was to rock him and hold him until the pain had gone away. Again, she put one hand out tentatively, but he growled, just like an animal when it was hurt. Fleetingly, she thought that Hagrid might be a better person to deal with him. Slowly, however, whatever it was subsided and he took his hands away, dragged himself up and threw himself into his chair, gasping.

"Would you like me to get you a drink?"

He nodded. Since she knew where he kept his rum, she slopped a small glass out for him. Relieved, he slowly regained his composure, drinking, sweat running down his forehead.

Had he had a heart attack? But then surely he would have clutched his chest. Really strange. 

When he had his breath back and a little colour, that he didn't have much of to begin with anyway, he stared at her in shock.

Anyone would have thought it was her fault.

She sat in front of him, leaning forward, anxious, waiting for him to tell her what was wrong. His eyes contained a potent mixture of disbelief, puzzlement with a dash of his usual anger and something else - what was it – almost – respect?

"Severus, please tell me, are you still in pain?"

"No, it has ended," he said, his voice taut, taking another gulp from his glass.

"What was it? What did this to you?"

He looked at her with his lip curled. "You did." And finished his glass.

Then it was her turn to be puzzled. "How?"

"That sound. It was disorientating. It went through me as if it were some kind of fire. It passed through my body and scorched it. It searched me out and…" He did not want to say more, and looked away.

She found it difficult to believe, but if he claimed it had…

"I am really sorry," she said, feeling that it was a lame apology.

He snorted. 

"I think you should go and see Fawkes and see what you have got wrong."

There he goes again. That made her so mad. Yes, she might be wrong, but he always assumed she was wrong.

Then there was a sharp bang on the door, an imperative type of knock, with the air of one that expected the door to be immediately opened.

"Shall I tell them to go away?" she asked, getting up.

"I'm not an invalid, and this is _my_ office," he snapped.

In total frustration she glared at him as he barked "Enter."

In front of them stood Lucius Malfoy. 

There was no doubt about as to who he was, but what he was, was also evident: Lucius was a very different order of things. He carried with him an unmistakeable aura of power and menace and sexuality like an entourage and his deep black cloak, immaculate and made of the most magnificent of materials, accompanied him graciously with his own smooth deliberate movements.

"I see," he said languorously, and ignoring the Potion Master, tilted his walking stick towards her, and crossed towards her, "And what do we have here?"

Who, not what.

She had had enough of insults. 

_Slytherins! _

Then when he stopped in front of her with his haughty conceit, she swore he was about to use his walking stick to caress her as if she were pedigree stock.  She blazed back at him with fury, despite his superior height and intimidating manner, daring him to cross an invisible line she had just invented.  

He smiled, a warped crooked smile: a smile for politicians and criminals. He was impressed.

"Well," he hissed, all sexuality in his demeanour, "are you going to introduce us my dear Severus?

Not taking his eyes off her, and with a yet bolder and condescending manner, he looked her up and down slowly.  Now she was enraged. She could have sworn that she saw Severus flinch out of the corner of her eye_. _She thought about using the sound. 

Writhing on the floor, oh yes.

"This, Lucius, is a researcher, Madam Elrin Danse," said Severus, managing to get up. "Slytherin," he added.

"Slytherin you say? Then sneered, "Ah, the half-witch".

Severus definitely looked pale as he said, "Elrin, this is Lucius Malfoy, governor of the school and Draco's father."

"Yes I know who he is," she fumed, not bothering to conceal her anger, though we have not been introduced before this."

Continuing to examine her, he spoke to Severus, his cane swinging idly.

"I have come my dear chap, to thank you for saving my son from being mauled by that odious Lupin."

She saw him at the back of Lucius making a stern face at her behind him: an attempt she thought, at trying to warn her. 

Well, too late for that, my darling Professor.

There was something apart from the contempt in him, she detected: a feral intentness, a curiosity, which seemed out of place in such a short meeting. As she was a nonentity, it didn't fit and it made her uneasy, though she was not going to reveal one iota of this to him. Lucius sniffed the air and turned to his friend, his white blond hair tied in a bow flicking around, like a dog on the scent. 

"Rum? A little early in the day isn't it my friend? Have you being enjoying yourself?" and he glanced towards her. "I think you have, you old secretive dog."

 "If you will excuse me," she snapped with one last withering glare at Malfoy senior, the insane product of generations of inbred wizards, "I will be on my way. There is nothing here to keep me," and marched out of the door, slamming it behind her.

It was several days later, on a Saturday, when she got the chance to get away from Severus. It had become very painful for her to be near him, and later he had told her off about her behaviour. He felt that she was playing with fire antagonising Malfoy, while she replied that he did not seem antagonised. Thereupon he lost his rag, and said that she didn't know what she was talking about. So a shopping trip to Diagon Alley was a much-needed escape, and she wandered in the winter gloom of the afternoon down the bustling street on her own. Xiomara couldn't come because she had a match, but she quite liked alone at this time. She needed the space in which to process all that was happening. It was coming across a tiny alley with the battered sign that made her halt to look down its murky length. She had never noticed it before, and she stood there a little while wondering whether to enter Knockturn Alley or not. 

_Why shouldn't I? I can look after myself._

And so she wandered in carefully making her way along the cobbled passageway, with its shops pressing closer on either side. With their black worn timbers and their dusty windows, the shops revealed their goods in various states of stark preservation or decay. One had hundreds of bats hanging upside down, crammed in the window, and even though she liked them, she shuddered, as these had red flashing eyes that watched and followed her. Another had murky windows in which there were shadowed objects. She couldn't make them out, and had the sickening feeling that she did not want to. 

There were not many people in the alley, and those that were did not seem to notice her and that was a relief. They were dressed oddly, though, more eccentric than usual and downbeat, with an air of grime, as if washing wouldn't make any difference. Various smells lurked in corners, some offensive, some strange, but there was an overwhelming odour of thwarted desire in the place.

Passing a shop of ancient cruel-looking masks that she was fascinated by, she was also surprised by the sight of Hagrid coming out of a shop of shrunken heads.

_What on earth was he doing here?_

Just as she was about to speak to him, strong arms grasped her from either side and in her struggle to free herself, saw Hagrid turn at the noise.

"Hagrid!" she yelled.

"What?!" and he rushed forward quickly for a giant man, only to find it was the last thing she remembered.


	9. a different order of things

**_A Different Order of Things_**

The first thing she was aware of, was not the two men speaking in a low voice at a distance from her in the room, but a ball lodged in her mouth, and a tight gag binding it fast. There was very little she feared more than not being able to breath, so instead of fighting it with the quick frantic bursts that were coming out of her at that moment, she tried to relax and breath calmly.

_First things first. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._

What was strong and a surprise to her nostrils was a cool mountain air smell and in fact could feel a little of it on her face. Then next thing to come to her attention was the fact that she was trussed up with immovable ropes in a vertical position against something, and thanked whatever force there was in the universe that she was still dressed, although her robe was gone. There was no way she could move anything, the ropes being rigid and again began to feel the rising tide of panic and had to concentrate on breathing easily and steadily. __

She remembered the look of desperation on Hagrid's face and they way he dropped the parcel he was carrying as he lumbered towards her before she lost consciousness. Perhaps he would get help, but she wasn't that unrealistic, though her mind screamed for it anyway. She had only lately come into this world and it looked as if she was likely to be leaving it fairly quickly.

_Severus, help, oh help me._

One of the two figures in the room that were just on the periphery of her vision, came near and she saw the mask but it was wasted on her because she knew the eyes and knew the unmistakable voice with its languorous enunciation. This was a barely civilized predator within a cultured sheath of exquisite urbanity. Despite knowing this, she glowered at him.

"Dear me, you are unable to tell me what a rat I am. Tut, tut, what a pity. I might have enjoyed that," he drawled, his voice crawling all over her. 

_Just take this gag off and I'll tell you exactly, Mr. DNA gone wrong._

"Feisty isn't she?" he said to the figure just out of her sight and then turned back, his chin up and his eyes hooded. "I do apologise for inconveniencing you. You believe, not unnaturally of course, that we are going to do something unpleasant, don't you? Hmm? And he stroked his cane over her face, over her breasts and her thighs, examining her contours left exposed by the ropes that bound her.

_She knew he had wanted to do that in the office._

"But we have the very best of motives. We are going to give you a little present. Actually a very big present my dear. We are entrepreneurs! We are not going to take anything away from you."

_Given half a chance you would._

She began to shake.

"There, there, such rage," he said, mistaking her fear for anger. "What a delight you are Ms.Danse. I do like a spirited woman. Severus is such a lucky chap. Don't worry, we won't damage you for him – in fact, you will be even more perfect. You will see," and he tapped his cane between her breasts, fondly. "And we need to get you back before he frets – if he frets at all that is," and then expressed his amusement.

A movement from her side vision interrupted the one sided conversation and Lucius bowed slightly to her as he heard the other figure approach. 

"My Lord," he said to the figure, retreating slightly.

What swam into her view was almost nothing compared to the cold that accompanied it. It was if the world were already in ruins, the best disappeared as if they had never been. She found that she had to cling onto sanity with all her might. 

_Think of Severus, think of Fawkes, think of Dumbledore. They exist. They are not a dream. _

Two slits in red eyes were examining her as if her soul where stretched out on a rack before him. It was like a pain without the relief of screaming, and she stared at his dreadfulness, hypnotized. 

_Severus… Forgive me everything. You were right and I was wrong._

The slits in his nostrils sniffed at her and if she had not been upright would have keeled over in fear. Prayer wasn't her strong point, but she wished now it was.She saw him lift one arm and with a fluid movement took out his wand with a gesture the wall behind him began to disappear. Slowly the outside was revealed and as he moved a little to one side, she could see a mountain range and the sharp cold came in on them. Her eyes widened, since they were the only things that were capable of reacting. The mountains from this high peak looked powerful and stunning and they were very close to the edge of a summit of one of them.

"Beautiful aren't they?" came the voice, more chilling than she could have predicted, and he had the same psychotic faux politeness as Lucius, but there was something in it that indicated that he could intuit many things and would not tolerate deception. 

"And do you see," and he moved a little more, "that mass of buildings down there, down on the left. Yes?"

She nodded. The school could just be seen, with its miniature peaks and turrets, tiny in the distance. He turned and made something that she presumed was intended to be a smile.

The mad eyes swung back again into her view, close up. She could smell the foul breath.

"This is what we want to give you."

_Give me?_

"To you and my dear Snape. Such a faithful servant. There, I've said it: I'm a romantic at heart. You and Severus can rule over it for all eternity, turning out servants for me. Now wouldn't that be nice? You and he, side by side as my trusted leaders to the new generations. Good male and female role models for their soft little minds. Tempting isn't it?

_You and your insanity. I'd rather die first. You don't know. I've already seemed to have died once already._

"It is a great honour," said Lucius from the sidelines. Voldemort put up his hand, long, long tapered hands, too long for human hands, with spike-like nails beyond them. Lucius bowed his head in abeyance. 

"Lets see what we have then." And to her horror he pressed his hand between her breasts and held it there, motionless. Nausea from her stomach nearly revolted up through the ball and the gag at the very touch of him, even through her clothes.

"Oh, yes, we know all about this. You and your sound. My good servant Malfoy, whom you have already met, came straight away to tell me, didn't you Lucius?" 

Oh hell, outside the door. No wonder he made a beeline for her with his unnatural curiosity.

"Yes sire."

"He felt the pain. Heard everything. What an effective little weapon. Mm. I can feel it. Strong: it just needs a little adjustment," he said, as if he were a doctor examining his patient.

_Oh, Merlin, he can feel it. Not that._

"Let's see if we can do something about that, shall we?" and waved his wand and made to slice her bodice from top to bottom, exposing her down to the skin. 

How weird. She hadn't marked him out as a sexual predator. Lucius yes, but not this – creature. 

Then he pressed hard against the centre between her half revealed breasts, making her scream through the gag. Lurid lime green fire like small lightening bolts flashed out from his abnormally long fingers and from his palm, straight into her chest.

Pain shot through her, rattling her body and then nothing, blank.

She was looking down from somewhere to three figures below, one unwrapping someone from their bindings, while someone else watched. She realized that the third was her own body and that two figures talked over it. There seemed to be nothing that she could do. 

"Is it there?" asked the watcher who did not look human, though he was upright, while the one with the mask examined her by now prone body.

"Yes my Lord, embedded nicely. Will it remain?"

"Never fear, it is there for ever," said the repellent one. "Now, mend those clothes and take her back to that stinking wild man of Dumbledore's. Be careful with her, I don't want her damaged – in _any_ way, whatsoever, understood Lucius?"

"Yes, my Lord."

_What was it with her and losing consciousness and coming back round?_

It had happened several times now, and she was sick of it. The world needed to stop spinning and stay still for a bloody change. Opening her eyes she saw two figures standing over her, but both had their heads away from her. One turned and put his frail hand on her arm and bent closer and she shrank from it. The other swung round and peered at her with his hollow black eyes. That was better. 

_Mm. Delicious._

"Elrin," he said with a gentle sternness. "Are you all right?"

_Silly creature. Of course I'm all right. Couldn't be better. What's that old fool doing here?_

And she pulled him towards her, wanting him on the bed with her.

He jerked up out of her grasp and looked at the other man, the bearded one. 

"Why am I here?" she said, puzzled as to why she should be in the ward. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"You were Disapparated by two men in Knockturn Alley. You were kidnapped my dear girl." said Dumbledore softly.

"Don't call me 'your dear girl'" she snarled and attempted to sit up then, too weak, lay down again.

The old man and the younger exchanged looks above her. The dark one suddenly bent down and grasped her face and stared intently into her eyes.

_Oh yes, give it to me baby. Tell Dumbledore to go away._

When he had seen, he stood up slowly, hard despair on his face.

"It's my fault," he said bitterly in a low voice.

"Do not blame yourself Severus. It is fruitless to do so."

"What can I do then? You tell me!" he shouted, and swung away, arms clutched round his body, facing the window.

_Could everyone not speak over me? It's very rude._

The Headmaster sighed with compassion as he watched the younger man's hunched back and then his eyes followed him as the Professor straightened and marched furiously out of the ward. Albus looked down at her and his face was grim.

Well, he's a happy bunny. What's he fussed about? Needs to get a bit more bran in his diet. Wish he would go away.

And the old man did, after a word with Poppy.

In time she got stronger, and so did her displeasure. After managing to escape from the ward and Poppy's incessant interference, she found that she could wander around the school not doing very much and was bored out of her brains. There was nothing to do and there was nothing she wanted to do. She certainly wasn't going to work on that precious manuscript of Severus'. Anyway, he hadn't mentioned it since she came back. 

Good riddance to a load of old rubbish.

The Slytherins gave her some entertainment, especially Draco, whom she related well with. He had a wicked sense of humour, sharpened now he was older, and they tore apart the staff with the exception of the Potions Professor, shrieking with laughter into the night in the common room with plenty of smuggled alcohol. 

A few days after that, Valentine's Day arrived and the school burst with teenage hormonal excesses. Cards whizzed round, tempers frayed, the odd wand duel went on throughout the day. She thought it very entertaining, especially since most of the staff's reserves of patience were low. Severus stormed around the school, diving through their giggling huddles like a harvester through a cornfield, scattering juveniles in his wake, snapping and snarling at everyone. 

This was fun.

In the evening, she took a long, long bath. The bathroom mirror shut up when she told it to keep its' filthy opinions to itself, and she certainly didn't bother covering it. Why should she? 

It's only a bloody mirror.

She tried on the dress she had bought with Xiomara, and it wasn't too bad really. The bodice was deep purple slashed with black lace, and the neckline, although not particularly low, was very becoming to her breasts – and if she bent down – wow! She smirked to herself. The skirt was not so hot, and it was fortunate for her that Xiomara came in at that moment, wondering guardedly if she needed any help. Elrin wanted the long skirt to be a bit slimmer, more chic with a good long slash up the side. 

"Less horrible 'nice girl look,' more 'glamour'." She said, twisting as she examined herself in the mirror. 

Xiomara looked ghastly. Her dress wouldn't be so bad if it had been fitted tightly. And she had no breasts at all. Still, she was being useful.

The Professor waved her wand and took some excess material off the skirt, which pleased her, sliding her hands down over her hips and her thighs, and then her bottom as she turned round, admiring what she saw. There was a little trail at the back where the material dragged on the ground.

Perfect.

It suited her long body, that and the bodice showed her elegant curves well.

Good. 

"What about my hair Xiomara? Up, up, sharp and sleek, I think. No silly coy bits dangling down."

What had she been doing before this?

Next to be done was to put on the long, long gloves, cut off at the palms and riding high on her arms.  Xiomara put a small clinching spell on them so they wouldn't fall down. Lastly and more deliciously were the shoes. Oh heaven. Less like shoes: more like weapons of war: high, and _sharp_.

A good kick with one of those and she would have Poppy's ward full.

Make up, she had forgotten make-up. 

"Xiomara, I want make-up."

The Professor, with her back to her, paused at the demand, thought about it, breathed in and turned round.

"Tell me what kind."

She did so, except she wanted a particular Muggle lipstick she had bought in Hogsmede.

"The rest you can do by magic, but I want the good old fashioned lipstick."

Minutes later she was finished. She definitely looked complete with make-up, her eyes now powerful and her lips provocative, a slick and blatant red.

Xiomara thought it was over the top for a school dance, but held her peace, and wondered to herself what she was doing here with her, except that her past friendship demanded it and because Severus had asked her to. He had told her to humour her a little but not get in her way. It had become a relationship of mistress and servant.  He hid his hurt well, but she could see he was having trouble accepting it. Knowing they had previously been working on something secretive, she assumed they no longer were, and observed him pacing about everywhere, even more than usual.

As they went down the wide staircase to go to the main hall, passing students gaped. 

This is good. This is nice. Just how it should be.

She held her head high and moved through the bustle of students crowded in the entrance. They parted quickly and she strode through, the tight skirt hugging her hips comfortably and her heels snapping on the stone flags. She bent her head to the Slytherin contingent graciously who in turn stood open mouthed. Draco looked as if he might cum in his pants. 

How amusing.

They were all in their dress robes, some of them passable, some of them hideous. Those parents should be ashamed. She passed Harry and he had a similar reaction to Draco. Hermione appeared almost shocked.

Silly miss stuck-up, she would show her what a real woman looked like.

The decorations were not as bad as in Lockhart's day; she was pleased to see. It seemed a little less nauseating. 

Walking towards the Professors, she wondered to herself.

What was a flock of Professors? A grim of Professors?

They were dressed in their usual abysmal style. Except of course Severus, manifesting as his usual glorious self, sharp in black velvet frockcoat, and as she approached, he joined the heads turning towards her. Then she could see into his black eyes and observed with amusement and deep satisfaction that he looked utterly stricken. Rose petals that had been magically programmed to fall continuously, released a heavenly scent through the hall, and strings of decorations on the walls were arranged in what could be termed tastefully done.

Albus opened the evening, and the students began to dance, moving towards each other like microbes toward food. She sneered, watching, as they sorted themselves out to begin the partnered evening. It proved to be a very boring one eventually, as no one asked her to dance, and there was no one to dance with anyway. Maybe if Lupin were there, possibly he would do at a pinch. Severus she found to be a slippery eel, keeping on the move, blasting bushes outside and finding couples in dark corners within. Anywhere where two bodies might be squeezed, he found them, and he had his work cut out.

Why he bothered, she couldn't imagine. It was very selfish of him to leave her there by herself. 

There was a time eventually, when he found himself in the middle of the room amongst the dancing couples and she took her chance. She strolled purposefully towards him and he stood there as she came up close. 

"Well, my dear Severus," she purred in his ear and wrapped one leg round his, feeling the sharpness of her heel digging into his leg, "Time for a little fun I think."

He was not responding, his face whiter than normal, and had all the appearances of being frozen to the spot. So she put the flat of her hand on his chest and rubbed it sensuously up and down. Students around them were amazed and amused, slowing their dance steps to watch. She did not see them, nor did she care. 

"_Madam_, this is not appropriate behaviour," he growled, furious, streamers and rose petals still raining down about down about them.

"Well, Mr.Stuffed-Shirt. If this were a tango it would be totally appropriate. You don't want to let these children grow up ignorant do you Professor? They could at least have some proper education." Then she grasped one of his hands and thrust it flat down the length of her, from her breasts to her stomach and down as far as she could get and his eyes widened in horror. The students, with their mouths wide open, not daring to breathe, thought that yes, they should have lessons. However, the Potions Master was not going to give them that pleasure, because he seized hold of her wrist and dragged her behind him, her heels nearly slipping on the floor.

"Oh, you are so _masterful_, Severus. Yes, let's go somewhere else." She could hear the giggles as they passed.

His face like thunder, he pulled her out of the corridor past curious stares and laughter. She waved at them with her other hand. Then he pushed her through an unmarked door, closing the door firmly behind him. It was an old drawing room, not used very often.

"Oh Severus, you hot devil you," and plunging inside his frockcoat, started to pull his shirt out from inside his trousers. For a second or two, he was taken aback, but recovered and held her wrists. She squirmed against him, her bodice thrust towards him so that he could see straight to her breasts. He closed his eyes for a second, and then pushed her apart, holding her at arm's length. 

"Elrin!" The name stuck in his throat, his voice hoarse. "This cannot be." 

"What do you mean, lover?" wriggled her seduction at him, pouting. 

"I – will not do this." The sweat was beginning to trickle down his neck.

"Why not?"

"Because, damn it, I don't intend to."

"Oh, just a little bit, honey. A little shag on that sofa perhaps? Or on that big desk over there?  I _need_ it. You can't refuse me."

"I just have."

_This was too much. All dressed up and no one to have sex with. Too much. The hospitality in this place stank. Wanted his dark looks and his curling lip. It's not fair. He refused me before. I remember. Don't think I haven't._

He watched as her mood changed, and her body language with it.

"Then I'll have to take what I want," and she pressed her hips against his, legs splayed out firmly either side of his, high in her shoes, and her mouth, red and swollen ready to bite into him. He defended himself and in his strength held her off. She began to get mad, flailing her arms. He would have to restrain her. Then suddenly she moved a little further away, beginning to vibrate the sound and after a moment or two he could begin to feel the pain and sank to his knees.

_Mm. Much better. That's how I like to see a man._

For a few seconds she gloried in the deep sound as it began to fill the room, charging her body with power, and it spoke of embrace and binding and crushing encirclement. It celebrated coming together, but not in love, though it was often given in the name of love: it spoke of supremacy and capitulation, of the unyielding and the acquiescent. It celebrated the seizure of slaves, of loot, of the enthralled rape of people, of countries, of bodies, of minds. 

It began to rattle candlesticks in the room and his head was near the floor. Unfortunately for her she caught a heel in a fold on the carpet, and stumbled, breaking her breath note. Furious, she wavered in the high shoes and then decided to attack in the good old-fashioned way by lifting a nearby heavy vase. She was about to hit him on the head with it, when he managed, though still somewhat in pain, to lift himself a little, find his wand and cry, "_Stupefy_," before she could do so. For a second she stood, the vase crashing to the ground and then tumbled towards him and he caught her with his body. For a while he kneeled there, cradling her limp across his lap, her head soft against his shoulder. He knew that soon she would have to be stopped, and that it was likely that he would have to be the one to do it. 

Carefully, with the tenderness he usually reserved for the brewing of his potions, he wiped off the brutal red lipstick with a handkerchief from his pocket, smoothed her forehead and idly wound some of her hair that had come loose around his fingers.  Her face was relaxed and quiet and more like the radiant Elrin he knew when she was translating the Phoenix and he cursed all the stars in heaven for doing this. She did not see him hold her in his arms and lift his head up to cry to the fates, the world, to any life force that meant something. A cry from the very deepest part of himself, from the dark unknown and the shining light of him, that tore out of his soul: a cry so painful, so loud, that it might have come from all humanity.


	10. once in a lifetime yo

EMINEM : LOSE YOURSELF

look,

 if you had one shot, 

one opportunity   
to seize everything you ever wanted-

one moment   
would you capture it 

or just let it slip?

_you better lose yourself_

_ in the music_

_the moment   
you own it,_

_you better never let it go.   
you only get_

_one shot,_

_do not_

_miss your chance _

_to blow –_

_'cause this opportunity comes_

_once in a lifetime _

_yo _

_  
  
  
****_

TEXAS: PUT YOUR ARMS AROUND ME 

_Are you ready maybe _

_Are you willing to run_

Are you ready to let yourself drown Are you holding your breath Are you ready or not 

_Are you ready_

_Maybe_

_Do you long to confess_

_Do you feel that you're already numb_

_Are you sure of yourself_

_Would you lie_

_If you're not_

You tire me out

_Don't want to let that happen_

_The secret scream so loud_

_Why did you let that happen_

_Hoo hoo_

_So put your arms around me_

_You let me believe that you're someone else_

_Hoo hoo_

_Cos only time can take you_

_So let me believe that I'm someone else_

_Maybe you are ready to break_

_Do you think that I push you too far_

_Would you open yourself_

_Are you reckless or not_

_You tire me out_

_Don't want to let that happen_

_A secret scream so loud_

_Why did you let that happen_

_Hoo hoo_

_So put your arms around me_

_You let me believe_

_That you're someone else_

_Hoo hoo_

_Cos only time can take you_

_So let me believe _

_That I'm someone else_

_That I'm someone else_

_Ooo_

_So put your arms around me_

_Ooo_

_So put your arms around me_

_Ooo_

Make me believe 

_Take me_

_Take me_

_Somewhere_

_Somewhere_

_Let me believe_

_Cos only time can take you_

_So stop_

**_  
   
   
   
_**Chapter ten                                                      **_Once In a Lifetime Yo_**

Someone passed her a flask to drink from, and for a second or two wondered if it was poisoned, then decided they would not dare, so she threw the strong liquid down her throat and handed it back empty. She certainly felt that she needed it, because it was still fairly cold in the draughty stand although she was well wrapped up well . Severus and Lucius were sitting each side of her watching her like hawks, despite their interest in the game. The Quidditch was not so bad when there were a few challenges to the rules: some adrenalin pumping action and a few good fouls from the Slytherin House as the superior team, but it still looked rather tame to her.  She examined her nails sticking out of her cut-off mittens and decided that she would re-do them when she got back. 

A girl's life was so busy these days.

They could feel the draughts as the fliers shot by and the commentator was loudly giving it all they had. The grass below them was unnaturally green and they had, high up as they were in the best Slytherin tower box, a perfect view in the winter sunshine while the students rimmed the outside below at ground level. The long flags stood limp, as there was no wind except for the player's movements. 

"Blocked, yes Creevy on the inside," screamed the commentator, " passing to Bones, Bones giving it, ahhhh – Enverdale strikes that Bludger hard – Chumbley misses it – ohhh," and the crowd moaned over the other side. "Bad luck Gryffindor!"        

Occasionally Lucius glanced at her slyly when he thought she wasn't looking. She knew her power exceeded Severus', but Lucius' might be able to upstage hers, but what was more interesting was that the right hand of Voldemort knew how her mind worked, what she wanted, what she was impatient with. His cloak lay alongside hers, its heavy texture smooth and an exciting depth of black and she wondered what he would be like as a lay. More imaginative than most, she would think. 

Definitely a good ride. Maybe a bit perverted. Mm, perhaps worth looking into. 

"This is a tremendous game – everyone on top form – Creevy again – moves, fields towards the end – oh nice play – yes! (ding of points bell) 60 to Gryffindor to 70 to Slytherin!"

Was that disappointment in that voice? So there should be.

For the most part the two men weren't paying much attention to her, absorbed in the game, and only looked disgusted when Slytherin did not get points, and clapping loudly but soberly when Slytherin won points like at that moment. Severus frowned at her for not applauding so she unenthusiastically did as she was told. 

Letting the side down, dear me. Shameful. Wonder if they've got any more drink?

She fumbled in her right escort's pocket for some, then discovered an interesting passageway. Following along his side, she moved her hand inside the cloak across his trousered thighs. To be gripped viciously by an angry hand.

"Discontinue, _my lady_" hissed Severus without moving his head.  "One more trick like that…"

"And you will do what? she sneered.

"I will tie you up and leave you in Dumbledore's office." he snapped.

_He really knew how to give a girl a hard time. The old man would bore her to death. Him and that stupid overgrown parrot_. _Nothing will get me in that room._

"I was only hoping for something to warm me in this heat-forsaken place," she pouted.

Lucius, hearing, passed her his flask, a superior type of hip flask with a serpent entwined around it, solid and heavy with quality. The drink was good too. Then he passed her his binoculars, so she played with those for some time, ignoring the game, but scanned the students below, wrapped well up in their respective house scarves.

Then she watched the two sycophants of the famous Harry Potter, shouting and waving their red flags with that repulsive Hagrid presumably for Harry to get the snitch. School robes did nothing for Hermione, she noticed and wondered with whom she was sleeping. Harry maybe, Ron unlikely, but possibly Draco, who was at the far end away from their box and was laughing derisively at something. The lean blonde Slytherin prefect showed up well behind a lens, even on a broomstick. His face certainly looked in Hermione's direction a few times, but whether it was to her specifically wasn't clear. Perhaps she would give him some advice: like find someone else. That stuck up prig of a Head Girl would never appreciate a well turned out young man like Malfoy junior with his long legs and his upright bearing. She noticed Lucius looking in his direction.

Malfoy Senior must be very proud. Not sure he is though. He should be.

Which reminded her that Lucius had given her a good talking to in Severus's office that morning. Told her that she should keep things close to her chest.

That was very funny. 

To keep an intelligent watch on things. 

What things? Nothing happened here.

"It is imperative that you wait for the right time," he said in his habitual menacing voice while stroking the viscous snake's head on his cane. "For the time when you can take your place of power." He sauntered round the office, tapping a jar here or there. "We," he said, passing by her and leering at the length of her, "need to play the school astutely and not give everything away before we have the advantage." He sneered at her, amused, and could feel the tension between them and as Severus was not in the room, she wondered if he would make a move on her, or whether she should take a risk with a dangerous predator like him but the next sentence dashed her hopes. "You will have your sport, my dear, but you need to rein in your immediate desires," then added as an afterthought "as I do."

Damn. 

Severus had obviously been talking to him.

He looked at her for a second down his long nose.

"Not _those_ desires," he said impatiently. "I meant, wanting to do and say exactly what you feel like, when you like."

"You need to control your greed Elrin. He took a deep breath and brandished his cane in her direction.

Mm, was he going to get closer? 

Now listen carefully, my little _half-witch,_

His long pale hair swept round as he bent down to her.

_What was it about some men with shoulder length hair? _

"Dumbledore is a dangerous man and could do something extremely unpleasant to prevent you from being part of our plans. Severus said that he would look after you, but if you make it difficult for him, he will have no choice but to leave you to the Ministry. Have you any idea what that might mean? No? Well, the chances are they would lock you up and throw away the key or drug you so stupid that you wouldn't know up from down.  I have spent quite some time this week arguing with the Headmaster, and as a leading Governor, insisted that you stayed here, and he agreed to let you stay on condition that Severus keeps an eye on you and that you behave yourself. So I want you to be clever, little Elrin and keep as low a profile as you can. Our turn will come soon enough."

Not so little half-witch now Lucius. But her turn was not coming soon enough. No one thwarted her. Not now.

She had agreed to try and be a good girl. 

Don't trust him for one square second. Perhaps she should  – play it shrewdly as he said. Hah! Better do as he says.

Severus will help you. 

Severus is a pain in the arse. He deserves some payback.

The game meanwhile went on, and on and on with the endless commentary.

"Again, Gregson in possession – ducks that Bludger – close, that was close – Gregson dives – Honeycutt tackles, ohhh – Brocklehurst foul – foul – definitely – oh yes, Madam Hooch is giving them what for – sorry – is disciplining him."

She let her eyes wander over Severus' profile sitting next to her, strong with its patrician nose, cruel mouth and elegantly shiny hair limp round his face. Muffled as he was in an ash-black scarf with his cloak falling thickly about him, he certainly had a sense of style, bachelor life or no. She shifted on the hard seats wiggling her bottom, desiring him, wanting to sneak her hands underneath those thick winter clothes to the heat underneath. Sensing her interest, he turned his head swiftly towards her and glared at her, a warning glare, like one would to a disobedient dog. As well as the glower, she could sense something else, something more mysterious, a haunted, devoted look. 

Severus has gone soft. I can feel it. 

She tapped his arm to gain his attention and then peered closely into his eyes before he realized what she was doing. 

Oh yes, oh yes, there's something serious there now. No mistaking it. Would you believe it. The sucker.

His eyes, though gravely regarding her, had an ardent desolation that there was no hiding at least from her. 

Ahhh. Wonder when that happened. Too late though, my lad. Too late. The time for being nice is over.  You spurned me. I want my vengeance. 

He looked back at the game sharply.

_"There's a clear field there – Quaffle straight to Chumbley – nice play. Yes! Potter has seen the snitch! Potter's on it and Malfoy in pursuit. Malfoy almost  has the advantage." _

She began to pay attention, and she could sense Lucius stiffen slightly, though he had too many centuries behind him of polite behaviour to make an open display of his doting. 

Potter and Malfoy fighting over that stupid little ball. Nearly killing themselves to do it. Well, at least that was  interesting. 

They could see from there the screaming effort in their faces as they passed the stand, their capes stretched out behind them as they curved round the stands. Everyone except she and the two men beside her were shouting and screaming, jumping up and down as the commentator shouted like a lunatic. Then it was all over. Draco had managed to snatch it by giving Harry one almighty shove and although he crashed into the end section, had caught it. Loud moans came from all round, but her House was going mad. Punching the air, the Slytherin golden boy looked over to their stand where Severus and Lucius stood up to clap with appropriate enthusiasm and grace, both glancing menacingly at her to stand and applaud.

"Nicely," hissed Lucius.

Thank goodness that was over. Perhaps they could go inside in the warm and have something to eat.

For some weeks while the weather became warmer, she became colder and more difficult to handle. Severus watched her as much as he could, but there was only so much he could do with classes and marking and other school duties. He could not sleep and his patience was taken to its furthest peak. The potions that he had brewed mocked him in their sullenness, and the parchments he hid away, holding them as if he could feel her hands on them and her voice speaking the rhythms of the ancient text. Lucius stopped by to placate her and even threaten now and again, and then she would temper her behaviour, but not for long. The staff avoided her presence when they could, and she was glad of it, because they sickened her. Xiomara had been hurt so often even she couldn't bear to be near her for long, but because Severus looked in such pain, she suffered it a little. It was time he let the Minstry take over, everyone thought, because it was too much for him. Dumbledore had him as a frequent visitor, talking into the night with him beside his warm fire. 

The Potions Master hovered over a seventh year Gryffindor with a cauldron that was smoking feverishly and was about to make some contemptuous comment when she burst in, robes swirling around her, hair wild and an expression to match. The class stopped whatever it was that had engaged them and stared at the sight, then swivelled their heads back at their Professor, waiting for the eruption. Harry and Hermione were viewing the whole thing with a certain detachment since they had their minds on other things, but Ron was fascinated and so was Draco, who looked at his House Master, wondering what he was going to do. The House Master turned his head slowly, knowing, as he did so, who it was and one or two pairs of eyes saw anguish break through the mask for a second. As she walked along the side aisle, she was running her hands along the side shelf with her fingers, humming.

"Bit dusty in here isn't it?" 

"Madam," he said and glared, pausing for one of his intimidating silences which had no effect upon her whatsoever, "remove yourself if you will. These students are otherwise engaged, and so am I."

She peered into Draco's cauldron that was near and looked at him suggestively, running her finger round the edge.

"What evil mixture are you brewing up then?" And was about to put her finger in it when Severus came sweeping round from the other side of the classroom and yanked her away and bent down to her ear.

"If you don't get your arse out of here in double quick time," he hissed, "I am going to do something very unpleasant to you."

"Oh, she said, bored, "Promises, promises. I'm so bored to death Severus. Pay me some attention for a change," she grumbled while he escorted her out, his hand gripped on her upper arm, as if death might well have been on his mind. As it happened, it was an opportune time to finish the class, since he had already gone three minutes over schedule.

"Class dismissed," he snarled to all of them back over his shoulder as he headed for the door pushing her in front of him. "Pack up immediately. Now."

Since they were older students, they packed up fairly quickly, and they particularly did not want to exacerbate the maddened discomfiture of their Potions teacher. As they made their way out, she came waltzing back in, eyeing up some of the young men approvingly as they passed, many now well exceeding her height.

Severus closed his eyes for a second and started to pack up some books on one of the desks.

"You don't need to do this you know," she whined when she got to where he was standing. "Let's go and play," she said provocatively. "Lets go and do something naughty for a change. I'm tired of all this do-gooding stuff. I want some action."

"This," he growled, "is the only action you are going to experience here." He had a high pile of books in his arms when she snatched some of them, making the rest of them fall. That made him mad and he leaned angrily towards her.

"Enough!" he shouted, thrusting his arm towards the door, his forefinger bent forcefully in his passion.

"Remove yourself from my presence. I no longer want you near me, do you hear?"

Such a fool. And to think she had thought there was something special about him. Lucius had better know what a little weasel he was. 

Her voice echoed in the empty classroom as she shouted: "I wouldn't want to be with you anyway, you slimy robotic half-wit! Homo erectus! That's a laugh. Once, once in how many years?"

 "Mind your tongue!"

"You don't know who you are rejecting."

"I know, lady, I know very well," he snarled bitterly into her face.

Then she turned on her heel and headed out of the door, slamming it deafeningly, a little dust rising behind it.

He picked up the books from the floor hoping they were not damaged and restacked them carefully. Then as he stood by the light of the high window, spread one hand over his tired face.

Before a quarter of an hour was up, she had reached the end of her infinite patience. This little whippersnapper of a first year was denying her courtesy and respect. She wanted obedience.

The little beast. I've had enough of this namby-pambying of little children. When I was little I was seen and not heard. In fact, not even seen. t

"You will do as you're told, you little baby," she screamed.

"Please Madam Dance, Professor Dumbledore asked me to go to his office straight away," cried the little boy terrified, but mesmerized to the spot. 

"And what does that matter?" She said coolly. "What you will learn from that old dolt is nothing. Get me my coffee. This instant."

More students were arriving to see what was happening. A friend, no higher than the little boy she was talking to, made her way to his side and she stared defiantly at the adult.

"Ahh, a little defender," Elrin purred. "And what are you going to do, half-pint?"

The children wondered what a pint was, but they didn't think it sounded complementary. 

Those expressions of Aunt Dorothy are coming in handy.

"What is it that you are asking him to do Madam Danse? Asked the girl, chin up.

"Telling him, my dear girl, not asking. I want it, Now."

"Perhaps I can get it for you, Madam," said the little girl, with dignity.

"I want him to get it. Get it? Because I want him to."

 Damned up, the fury was beginning to erupt, coursing through her blood, through her brain. There was a commotion that she could hear from the nearby corridor, a bustling of some sort. 

"This place is going to the dogs. And I intend to do something about it."

And she began to lift her arm up slowly and point it at the disobedient boy and then at his insolent accomplice.

Which one? A difficult decision.

A sort of tremor began to shake her outstretched arm and puzzled, they watched, wondering if she was having a fit, just as Severus came charging round the corner of the corridor, almost knocking one child over in his panic.  

"Get out of the way, get out of the way," he bellowed with gritted teeth, in that emergency voice of authority which the children responded to automatically. 

"Madam Danse!" He said, almost out of breath. He must have run from his classroom. He looked around at the tableau of students and her as the centrepiece with black fear in his eyes. "What is it that you think you are doing?" 

"I was just taking some much needed action in this miserable hellhole you call a school," she drawled. " Like getting rid of one or two students." 

And she lifted her arm up again. He had not been a teacher for so many years without feeling the earth-shattering tension in the place and although he did not know what she was about to do he recognizing the deadliness of her movement and the look of fury on her face, and instinctively threw himself in front of the two first years, his arms and legs wide open to her threatened assault, making before the children a black winged angel of protection. 

"You don't want to try that Severus dear, because I will have my way. Move - out of the way."

"Never." Eyes glittering black, head down like a charging bull.

"Because I will kill you. I can, you know. "

"Of that I have no doubt _Madam_," he growled.

"What is it with this Madam nonsense anyway? But you will like this little skill I seem to have acquired, I promise you. I discovered it the other day." And she shot her arm out and green fire came out of it in a long line of power and shattered a nearby sculpture off the wall, breaking it into a thousand pieces with dust in clouds exploding from it. The students jumped and gaped at her in awe. She had not used a wand.

"Isn't it the coolest?" she said, pleased. While Elrin was looking smug at their veneration of her abilities and all were gawping at the debris, he thrust his wand at her and shouted.

"incarcertorium!"

Nothing happened.

Now this was entertainment.  She would like more of this.

"Try again my dear Professor," she said, leered.

"Asphixio dissendium."

She laughed and laughed then. She could see the anguish openly on his face and he lowered his head, breathing heavily. 

That's how I like 'em. Right where a man should be. 

"Get out, everyone," he shouted to them all. "Get out. _Now_." But as he looked around they were too transfixed by her to move. She noticed and smiled. .

He lifted his head up slowly and she could see him take a deep breath, and with a snarl and his arm bent behind ready to shoot his wand out at her he began to curse her with all that he had left.

"Imp….." he began, but he could bring himself to compete it and halfway faltered.

"You!" she said, realizing his intentions, "You would use an Unforgivable Curse on Me? Very well, you can all die." And she started to vibrate, her eyes open this time to watch them all feel the effects of her wrath.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWW

First the students held their heads with the pain and started to sink to the floor and then he gradually started to join them on his knees with his hands clutching the sides of his head. The roar of the power swept within her through the bodies and minds of the people before her and with the crescendo of it she heard civilizations crash, planets spin out of control, galaxies evaporate. She closed her eyes in the bliss of it. She was so absorbed that she did not see a small tiny object dive at her from above and then flap frantically around her mouth, preventing her from continuing. 

Get off you stupid – rat-thing – and she swung at it, missing it as it threw itself with all its tiny might at her face. Severus then took the opportunity, despite the ferocious pain, to hurl himself at her. But he was severely gripped in agony again just as he skidded to a halt only a foot away as she began again, determined to ignore the bat. He fought, fought the pain with the strength that he had acquired over the years battling against the evil in others and in himself and with this determination scarring his face managed to lift his arms out about her, and realized that he would die if he touched her but needed to do something and not knowing what else to do, made a move. This impulse came from deep within, from the heart of him, from the desperation of loving someone so strong that it demanded that he take action however crazy, to claim his own, to answer a deep need, to admit his love, to join with another, to break his seal of isolation, to open himself to the fear of belonging and to break his vow of pain even as he embraced another. He shuddered with the strength of it, from the torture of it, from the grief of it. From somewhere in another corridor he could hear one of the students whooping with laughter, the sound of a Bludger being hit in the grounds outside, saw the stone arch above him and thought of his potions and the fragile manuscripts belonging to his mother, as well as feeling the warmth of the afternoon sun as it came through the window onto a piece of her hair against the white of her neck and he hesitated in his pain, and then used everything he had ever had or done or said or felt to throw his arms tight around her rigid body. 

Some of the students, as they emerged from the worst of their pain did not believe their eyes, for their Professor had her in a unshakable embrace, pain slashed across his face and then slowly, slowly it gradually changed into one of astonishment and then his features started to relax into what they could only imagine was a look of utter bliss. She was still sounding but its note had changed and then she began to get weaker, and stopped abruptly. More students came out of their pain. Elrin slowly opened her eyes and stared at him astonished and he smiled at her gently. Even with that degree of subtlety one or two students paled at the sight of it and wondered if the world was going to fall apart or the ground beneath them to split open, but all that occurred was a profound and peaceful silence in which all motion ceased and there was nothing to do but sink into it. She blinked at them all circled around, Severus still holding her in a grip so tight she could hardly breath and noticed the tiny bat on his shoulder, quivering, its shiny eyes darting around. 

"This is my familiar. He's called Sampeer," he said quietly to her.

"Hello," she said stupidly to the bat. "I think we've met before. With Hagrid you know."

"Oh," he said, turning his head to try to see the little creature that grasped at his collar, "So that's where he's been. I was beginning to be concerned."

She found it odd having a conversation with him about a bat while he had his arms firmly fixed round her like a binding and both were standing there in front of gaping students in the middle of a main corridor. And it was odd too that he looked at her with such calmness and tenderness, examining her face as if he had never seen it before. 

_What an extraordinary face he had. Quite unlike anything I have ever seen and yet I feel as if I have always known it. And his eyes are not quite the black I thought they were; they had a strong hint of warm brown in them. _

At that instant she immediately began to waver as the tension broke over her and she began to weaken. Then she was aware of a sharp pain in her chest and jerked with it.

_"You!" _ he said quickly to a student, "Get the Headmaster  – _Now!_"

"I am here, my dear fellow," said Albus, making his way through the children.


	11. fire fire burning bright in the middle o...

**_Fire, fire, burning bright, in the middle of the night._**

Chapter eleven

She was proud that this time she hadn't lost consciousness as they rushed her to the ward and to Poppy's ministrations. Although she was aware of everyone around her snapping into emergency mode, her whole psyche had to concentrate on the assault to the centre of her body, breathing shallowly as she did so. She felt both Severus' and Poppy's arms lift her onto the bed, while Dumbledore pulled the curtains round them all.

_Here I go again. Same bed as well. The sun is shining outside. What am I doing here?_

After they had told the matron the rough details, little though they were, Poppy demanded space and opportunity to examine her patient, and removed both men from the immediate scene, the potions master proving rather unwilling, but did not oppose her. After realizing that he could do nothing, he stood back and informed the Headmaster about what had happened. When Poppy managed to get to her patient instead of having to deal with bystanders, she was her usual bustling self and as efficient as ever. As the nurse stripping her quickly with a spell, Elrin was vaguely aware of cool hands examining her chest, while Madam Pomfrey muttered and passed her wand over her. Normally Elrin would have had a problem with being laid out naked like that and was aware of the weak defence of the surrounding curtains and the presence of the two men waiting outside, but the pain took her pride away, and she submitted to the indignity of being prodded and inspected. As the nurse finished with a scan using both hands, she dressed her in a shift in an instant, and then left her to the isolation of the cubicle, giving her no clue as to what might be happening. 

_Don't leave me here. Please. Do something. _

A minute later, which appeared to her to be like a lifetime, she was being helped to drink something which tasted foul, but which she took obediently. She noticed that the pain was not persistent, but came and went like waves. Then she was given more potions, but smaller amounts and more gelatinous, one being a bright azure blue. Nothing seemed to help though, and after some minutes, was still racked with the pain. She could hear Poppy's voices joining the two men's discussion further down the ward and wished she could lose consciousness. 

_I can't stand it. Isn't there something? What's wrong with me? _

The sweat poured off her, drenching the sheets and she tried not to cry out, but when the pain reached a climax, she moaned into her pillow. It was not long before the curtain shot back on its rings and Dumbledore and Severus stood around her, one on each side, their faces tense.

"Elrin my dear," said the old man gently, "Can you understand what I am saying?" 

She nodded, her breath coming in gasps.

"What is happening to you is not physical," he said, glancing at Severus, "We believe it is magical. Some kind of curse."

_Oh, wonderful. Was that the good news or the bad news?_

She wanted to say, 'so?' and instead blinked from one to the other idiotically: Severus with his ferocious intent and Albus wearing the kind of frown that worried her more than anything else. He always appeared so composed and knowledgeable. 

"What do you remember about your kidnapping?" questioned Severus, leaning down on the bed. __

"Kidnapped?" She said, looking up in wonder, "I was kidnapped?"

He looked stricken, despite his attempt to hide it. Then she began to feel dizzy.

She could feel his weight on the bed and she reflected that it was a comfort that he was probably completely oblivious of.

_Stay close, please. Don't go away._

"It's the Sleeping Draught taking effect. It might give you some relief," he added, seeing her unfocussed eyes drift.

_Oh, at last. Anything, anything to take the pain away. _

From deep within the night, she could hear something far away and lights flickering in the distance. The pain had remained as a constant presence throughout her sleep and with her returning consciousness, re-awoke with a vengeance, her head slippery with sweat and heat, her hair sticking to her skin. It was if she had been lying on the deck of a sea-drenched boat as the sheets writhed wet beneath her. The muttering grew louder and realized that it was not far away, but near. Someone was murmuring close to her ear – a rhythmic sound, a kind of deep-sounding monotonous chant. 

"C_ontriue omnem malum et nequitiam_." 

_Was that a last rite? She was dying then._

She turned to see a priest, only to find Severus, leaning on the bed with his head by hers, eyes closed, his lips forming the words. 

Am I dying? She asked, flopping her arm out towards him and missing in her drowsiness.

He stopped and opened his eyes quickly, so close were they, like black satin in the candlelight.

"No, you are not," he growled.

"I think you are lying. That's Latin isn't it? And what are you saying to me?"

"They are counter-curses. Do not interrupt." 

_Great, she would die with his orders to her on his lips._

"L_ibera me ab," _he continued, his voice solemn and low based, the stream of his breath cooling her neck, "_omnibus insidiis inimici."_

And then she noticed, as if one could avoid noticing what she had thought to be distant, to be near instead: a vast assemblage of candles surrounding the wide area in which the bed stood, all hovering at different heights bathing them and the whole ward in their sparkling light. Amongst them were thick sticks of incense, their grey smoke twisted up from them through the air, mixing with the light of the candles and oozing out their intoxicating scent.

"G_ustu huius unguenti_" he continued, and dug a finger in a small jar and wiped a mark on her wet and burning forehead. "A_duersus omnes nequitias in mundorum spiritum."_

Spritum? She said, alarmed, disturbing him. Spirit? Isn't that to do with ghosts and dead people? 

He glared at her with his eyes wide. 

"Do I –" and stopped, dropping his head in defeat. "What I just said was: 'Blessed with a touch of this unguent, against all wickednesses aimed at the spirit of pure ones. Satisfied?" he asked sarcastically, tilting his head in the way she loved.

"Hardly pure," she muttered, and got one eyebrow raised in reply. After a while, he got up and lit what looked like a thick bunch of tiny twigs with a spell, stopped it burning, and with the smoke trailing wide over them and ashes falling over the bedclothes, he began wafting it backward and forward over her, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he needed to. She thought she might choke with it, but surprisingly did not, and inhaled the penetrating smell as he, with one arm out, traced her whole body in lines and circles, for all the world as if she were being laid out for burial, while he continued to mutter the counter-curses. She had no idea what he was doing and in her disablement, just observed his deep concentration, robes draping as he moved like a dark canopy over her, like a welcome shadow from a desert sun. 

She lay back, drifted again, exhausted, listening to his voice, glad that he was there and secure in the knowledge that he hadn't left her alone with the pain and then from there immediately fell into a jagged abyss. Hands, hands spider-long and vicious, clawing at her face, her father cold and absent, a black horse and rider turning against a snow-packed mountain, a child's white face looking up at her with his nervous fingers grasping one another, slitted nostrils reeking of corruption and sniffing at her, the thrust of Severus' tongue in her mouth, the hurt face of Xiomara, her aunt Dorothy as she sat hunched in her chair like a sinister insect, the long frail hand of an old man handing her a book with a smile, a snake's head on a cane sinking it's teeth into her breast, a black owl swooping towards her, the blank look of her parents, the slick curve of a high heeled shoe, the high mountains and the school below like a child's toy. So many torn dreams, so few living hopes, so fragile the innocent, so low the expectations, so deep the desire of the abyss, so wide the pitiless doubts. All crowded into the furnace of her body and fought for supremacy. There was no way of knowing which one would emerge the victor, and then out of it from somewhere, from a black nowhere, sounded the melodious beauty of Phoenix, and she began to echo it and was not aware of the effect it had on the one figure who was then sitting still as a rock beside her and who jolted his head up at the sound of it. Almost at that moment, there could be heard the flapping of heavy wings as Fawkes swooped down the length of the ward, his scarlet body shimmering in the radiant candlelight with golden tail feathers sweeping out behind, his image reflected in the polished floor. The dark face of the potions master showed how glad he could be at the sight of the bird and he stood to watch it as it landed on her bed with a high keening sound as she awoke, her eyes barely able to open.

"Fawkes help me, please, this pain. It's terrible."

"Ah, that I wish I could dear lady," he said, his huge feet careful not to crowd her.

"What do you mean? Please, it's consuming me. It's going to kill me. I feel its power."

" I know what it is you are fighting and how you feel."

"No you don't," she said angrily.

"Unfortunately, yes I do, though it has been some centuries since it happened to me."

"Then, why have you come?" She said, looking away in despair.

"Because you called in your need. I have to tell you that it is not in my power to take it away."

_Great, wonderful._

"I cannot touch you, and at this point, my tears would burn you. But I _can_ tell you that this process is on the edge of completion."

"Process? What is this Fawkes? What is it?"

"You will know soon enough. Just a little while longer. Just a little. Hang on my friend."

_Hang on. Yeah right. Screaming pain in the centre of you._

The bird glanced at the black shadow standing on the other side of the bed. 

"Severus looks as if he would tear the world apart to stop your pain."

"I think he might tear you apart if he doesn't see some action from you." 

Dumbledore appeared from Poppy's office and joined his senior professor, intrigued by Fawkes' appearance. Severus was becoming tetchy with the Phoenix.

"There are no indications of any tears from that overgrown turkey, Albus," the potions master said with gritted menace, turning to the old man. "He is chattering away as if he were in some damned drawing room discussing the state of the weather. Can you tell me why?"

"I cannot say my young friend," said Albus with outward calmness.

Then she started to pant with the pain, clutching her heart, but then cried out as it burned her hand. When the pain had lowered a fraction, she called Severus' name so faintly that Fawkes hardly heard it, but Severus caught that faint whisper and moved swiftly over to her side, bending close so she could speak to him. 

"He says," she whispered, "that it will soon be over. Just a little more time." 

He flashed his eyes at the bird, which was near enough for him to put out his hand to strangle.

"It is not improbable that he could help instead of just standing there," he growled, searching her face.

"He says it is beyond his power."

He curled his lip at the Phoenix, who had his head on one side.

"If that's what he says, I can bear it," she said, inspecting his face.

_Don't know if I can though. _

He looked as if he was the one who could not and clearly wanted to bury his face in her.

_My darling._

And Elrin closed her eyes.

And woke to find several people round the bed with someone who screamed in the ward, only to find that it was her own voice, her back bent backwards. On one side, Severus attempted to hold her and Poppy the other, with Dumbledore only a step away. Just as she thought she could not bear another moment, something changed, and they felt a reverberation through her body. He was the first one to notice an odd light coming from her chest, beneath her nightshift. He was about to dive in to find out, when he halted and indicated to Poppy, who, nonplussed, waved him away a little so that he could not see, and peered underneath to see what it was and gasped in surprise. She marched away quickly, and both men looked at each other baffled, one deeply anxious and one distraught. They had to wait until she returned, and would give them no answer, intent was she to do what she needed to do, and was about to do it with a fine pair of surgical tongs. She spent some time using them down the front of Elrin's shift but could not manage to do whatever she was trying to do and Elrin herself was trying to pull and scratch where she was working, even with Severus holding her arms away. He was getting madder.

"What the hell is it Poppy?" He snarled.

The nurse wiped her face, damp with the attempt.

"Well, I'm not sure what it is, but it looks like - a jewel-like object stuck in the centre of her chest. It's not far under the surface, but I can't get it a proper grasp of it. I think, though that it might be working its way out, which is why it's hurting her so much. You can see the green glow of it through her gown can't you?"

"Yes, that's what I indicated to you," Severus growled irritably, staring at her writhing body. 

"How long before it comes out?" Asked the Headmaster.

"I really can't tell. It appears to be coming though," as Elrin shrieked and thrashed about throwing herself over the bed and nearly onto the floor with two strong black clad arms to prevent her.

"Is there anything that will help it come through?" asked Poppy.

"We might Accio it," suggested Severus, 

"No," said Albus, "no I think not. You must not touch it," and he laid his hand on the younger man's arm, his expression resolute. "We wait." 

"I don't think she will last much longer Albus," whispered Poppy and Severus gaped at her uncomprehending, his own face wet with his own sweat and if Poppy didn't know better, tears mixed among it.

With a sudden odd noise in her throat, Elrin stopped, her ragged breathing the only sound in the ward. And then became frantic as she tried to fumble with her clothes.

"Get it out, get it out," she screamed, wild, panicking, plucking at her clothes.

Poppy took immediate command, yelling above Elrin to stop immediately and as she stopped still, panting, her face contorted with pain, the older woman grabbed the tongs and fished inside and brought out a lurid green jewel, glowing and spitting with an eerie fire and with a crack down its middle. Elrin collapsed, and Poppy checked for a wound mark, and for a brief second, saw the tear in her flesh, but then there was no trace of it having been in her body at all. Severus then dived down to be with her, wiping the strands of hair off her face, and finding a handkerchief, wiped her face carefully, scrutinizing her wide eyes, which were unnaturally bright and bewildered.

"Is it gone?" She asked, her head too tired to stay upright without support.

"Yes," he whispered, "it's gone. Has the pain gone?"

"Yes. I'm just – "and could not finish.

"Exhausted. Inevitably. It is vital that you sleep now." 

Lifting one of her sore arms up, she softly stroked his cheek with the back of her hand and he looked devastated.

_Oh, this is good. This is very good. I am alive and he is here._

When she woke it was morning and she found him with his head lying on his arms on the side of the bed beside her, his hair splayed over the sheets, asleep.

_What a sweetheart._

As she gradually came out of the heavy sleep feeling as though she had gone many rounds with Mike Tyson, she smiled at the thought of his puzzlement – '_and who might I ask, is_ _Mike Tyson_?' If she had had the energy to move, she would have kissed the top of his head, but satisfied herself with stroking his hair until he suddenly jerked awake and she noticed the tiredness in his face, the beloved lines around his mouth carved even more intensely, but also the deep satisfaction in his eyes. As he sat up, stiff from his night's vigil, there must have been something that triggered her memory, some movement, some expression, or merely something in the air, a sound or a smell, but whatever it was, a multitude of past incidents invaded her memory like shock troops and she gasped silently in horror.

_No. No. I couldn't have. Not possible._

Turning away from him, she realized that she was not able to able to face him and instead stared up at the ceiling as if she could see it all there. She did not see his face change to a blank wall from where he cautiously observed her change, and it was clear that he had expected it, but had not thought it be so soon or so dramatic and he watched as she pulled away from him into her own hell. He was not a stranger to despair, but his emotions at this time were of a kind he had never met before and was amazed at how fresh the pain could be.

_No. Never. _

She could not have done those things, said those things, been those things. She did not even reject Severus; she had just turned away.

_How could he be near her? How could he touch her? How could he look upon her?_

Rampant through her giddy mind came snatches of a walk through a crowd of students with her tight dress and a huge slit up the side, high on her stilettoes, a proud, unbending, arrogant, sexy walk, a superior being surveying her admirers. Then there was her attempted seduction of Severus in the middle of the dance floor and the one in private when she had forced him onto the floor in vexation with her supremacy and grabbed the vase to smash onto his stubborn head. How she had absolute contempt for the oddly assorted teachers and in particular her disdain of the Headmaster as the reigning fool and of her vile treatment and cynical use of Xiomara, the one friend she had made. How they had all increased their distance from her and her gladness of it in her island of hatred and bitterness, how they turned their heads away and signalled to each other at her presence. Her intriguing desire for Lucius was bad enough, but much worse was her alliance with his secret plans and of his master: Voldemort: the monster that had implanted a sinister and eerie fire within her with his hand, if something so vile could be called a hand. After that there was an odd snatch of memory where she could feel the motion and force of Severus marching her out of his classroom like some unhealthy pariah, though where it fitted in, she was not quite sure. Tumbling on top of that was the sight of children around her, open mouthed and hypnotized and Severus in front of them with his arms wide, vulnerable and determined and angry. She remembered with a shock that he nearly did an Unforgivable Curse on her, although it was not the killing one. Because she was the one with the killing in mind as she forced them all to their knees and gloried in the mighty soaring power. 

She remembered the stopping vividly. She had been engulfed in the killing vibration in the midst of this rage of power and vengeance – a mountain top of a force pushing all those underneath her own will and the triumph of it pleased her soul, when out of no-where came another potent power but with a mystery that crowned hers: the ancient mystery of sacrifice, of a love so intense and with a risk taken so pure, so reckless, that it transformed everything. They were both lifted to another level where they joined together and were changed and restored within the clarity of the transcendent sound and blowing through her body, reached her centre and cracked it – began propelling the invader out of her body and then she remembered herself and found herself staring into Severus' face, his arms tight in protection or imprisonment, she could not tell. 

It all then slotted into place with the pain and the candles and Severus chanting in her ear and Poppy and Albus around her and now it was daylight but it felt like darkness and the rain streaming down the windows echoed her inner state. She had come alive with him at her side only to wish she had not. All those events passed through her head at lightning speed as if they all came at once and as if she had always known them. The merciful veil that had come down on her previously was a cruel illusion and had allowed her to open herself to Severus when she had no right to do so. Now it had been torn apart, she had no right to love him. More importantly, she had no right to let him love her.

_Latin Quotes: from Miscellaneous Lacnunga Charms: BL MS Harley 585, circa 1050. Copyright: Karen Louise Jolly,_ _Misquoted William Blake's Tiger, Tiger_


	12. Cura Nihil Aliud Nisi Ut Valeas

****

Cura Nihil Aliud Nisi Ut Valeas 

**_(Pay attention to nothing other except that you be well.)  --Cicero_**

_Sub title – 'Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?'_

Chapter twelve**   
  
**

Nothing seemed to be able to shift her despair and so she stayed in the ward for as long as Poppy would put up with her, but eventually the nurse began to get tough and threatened to send her packing, afraid for her as she stared into space for hours. Dumbledore had come and spoken to her, and Severus was there when he could, but she would speak to neither of them, just turned her face to the wall, blanking out their words and their existence. The weather was getting warmer, and the beginnings of spring were in the air, but she could not join in the bright sunshine mood that filtered through the windows. There were the sounds of Quidditch practice being played out in the field, the shouts, the clock of the bats against the bludgers, but they could have been a million miles away. She wondered whether she should go home or whether she could in fact even go back. Perhaps that was where she belonged, in a grey world, with grey thoughts and grey feelings and she cried herself to sleep at night in the empty ward. The fire jewel had been removed from her heart, but had been replaced by lead or perhaps her heart had been removed with it or perhaps Voldemort had replaced it.  It was just about possible that she could face the students, but that there was no way that she could face the staff.  Poppy tried to get her to go out for some walks outside, but she only got as far as the hospital ward door, and snuck back in again. Then one afternoon, Poppy seemed determined and demanded that she go back out into the world.

_Which world?_

Maybe she had spoken to Albus because he arrived within the quarter hour, and had an intent look as he strode through the ward. For a while, her custom had been to avoid eye contact or turn away, but there was something about him that although her face was turned, she did not block out his words. Maybe she was getting a little better, though she did not feel any different. She was dressed and sitting on the bed looking out of the window at a pure blue sky. He sat down on the bed and instead of talking sat there for a while, contemplating the same scene outside with her. Eventually, after a while, as they sat there breathing and thinking, he said, "We need to talk Elrin."

Speaking seemed difficult since she had been shut up within herself for what seemed a long time. 

_How long was it, a week, two weeks, three weeks? _

"I don't see that there's anything to talk about," she said, studying the bedclothes.

"I want you to come with me. It is time."

Instead of protesting, she caved in.

"Follow me."

As he swept along, he held her arm in his so that she had support, but it felt agreeable as if it were a message of psychological as well as physical support from him. As if she were a part of what he believed to be important. 

_Can't escape him though._

Her legs were a little weak and the different smells of the school, of polish and stone and fire struck her after her isolation in the ward, but most of all the blast of reality and vitality hit her, as though she seemed to be viewing everything from a completely different perspective, as if she had become a stranger, even more so than when she _was_ a stranger, because she was innocent then. She ached for those days, when she didn't even recognise the reality of the place, because her innocence was intact. She could believe herself to be a good person, a moral person who could never destroy anything, physically or psychologically. As they went round one corner, Severus stepped out of a classroom door into their path. Both Elrin and he hesitated and paled, both staring at one another for a second or two and then she dropped her eyes quickly. Continuing his pace, Albus greeted him pleasantly, and so pulled her gently in his own direction, leaving one perplexed potions master behind. 

_He was so - so substantial, so overpowering and awesome. He looked straight at me, guarded and tired. He must hate me._

The headmaster opened a door into a class in session with Minerva teaching the second years.

_Why am I here? I don't want to be here._

Bounding the huge room, were enormous Victorian cages holding a variety of living animals and birds while the class was in progress. As they approached through a door behind them, she and the headmaster stepped softly in and sat down so that the students could not see them. The Professor had just finished chalking out a weird mix of signs and symbols on the blackboard for an exam and she then strolled up and down the rows, scrutinizing the parchments. It was quiet, except for the odd chattering and squeaking of those in the cages and the scratching of quills. The students were all bent over their tasks, Minerva tutting when she heard the occasional whisper and bending down to ask a student what the problem was with their quill.

Elrin glanced at Albus, but he was concentrating on the scene before him. 

_What on earth am I suppose to be watching?_

Eventually, after sitting there for a while, Minerva spoke.

 "I suppose," she said, "that you have all done? Because it is time to finish." As she collecting up the scrolls, the students relaxed a little, some making faces, others looking worried, others glanced around at the two statue like figures behind them and made sure they were behaving themselves, nudging others to indicate with their heads that the headmaster was behind them. 

"Very well," said Minerva, lifting her head up. Always tall, always dignified, always very correct, was Professor McGonagall, but with a compassion that students could sense despite her strictness. They had no idea of her wicked sense of humour that she expressed in the staff room, where she entertained the staff rolling about in their seats. "That is all. You may pack up and go. Give me that Honeycutt, thank you."

And there was an explosion of life with scraping of chairs, with pushing and pulling and chattering and laughing and banging desks as they made their way out, until all that were left were the two Professors and herself.

"How are they doing Minerva?" he asked, getting up and striding across to her. Elrin thought she had better follow, though she didn't know why; she seemed to be attached to him like a small dog. "Not too badly Albus. One or two I am concerned about, but on the whole, really not bad at all." Then she smiled and it lit up her face like spring after winter and said with a wicked tone to her voice "though I shall push them much harder, as they can go much, much further."

"Good, good, I am glad."

As she came close she could see Minerva purse her lips and shut her face up guardedly, but was clearly making an attempt to be civil.

"How are you Elrin?" she said, with effort in her voice.

_What could she say? Sorry, I've been a monster?_

"I am, err, f- fine thank you," and immediately thought of Professor Quirrel and his stutterings. She sounded like him. He too had appeared to be innocent, and then was revealed as Voldemort's puppet. 

"Well," said Albus, "we must be getting on," and took her arm again and off they went. Then she knew where they were going, because they approached his office. 

"WagonWheels," he said, and he smiled at her surprise and the huge griffin sculpture, which she had always thought was tremendous, revealed its staircase and they both went up to the familiar room. It seemed a lifetime since she had been in it, though in reality it had not been that long. Albus indicated a chair and snapped his fingers for tea and toast. She sat down obediently and stared into the fire that was still on, needed despite the weather outside. Fawkes was doing his usual trick of being asleep.

"Headmaster," she began. After all that she had thought and done, she felt a little respect was in order. 

"Albus," he corrected, settling down with her in a chair close to her as the tea arrived.

"Thank you Winky," he said, smiling, "oh and gooseberry jam too. I adore gooseberry, don't you?" Albus was doing the making-someone-especially-a child-at-ease-trick, and in a way, she felt like one. One that had been severely chastised, though none had done so. Winky disappeared without any scorn in her direction. _Perhaps she had not been affected by her._   _She couldn't have brutal to everyone, could she?_

"Why did we go to Professor McGonagall's class?" she asked.

"Minerva, he corrected. You are still a member of staff here you know."

"How is that possible?"

"Because I wish it. And because we need you," and ignoring her jerk of disbelief, continued, "I wanted you to see just a little everyday happening where the young people here are taught and encouraged by a dedicated teacher. Nothing special, and just a few students. Just a handful really. I wanted you to see just what you are turning down by turning yourself down. They need protection, they need a safe hospitable environment where they can flourish and become good and perhaps great citizens. That protection is threatened.

She felt sick in her stomach. She didn't want to hear this, friendly fire and buttered toast or no. 

"You are really talking about," and she struggled to voice it – "the parchments – the ancient Phoenix" Her voice rose in panic. "How can you possibly expect me to even begin to consider it after what has happened?" 

"Well," he said, stroking his beard and adjusting himself in his seat, "it is even more imperative that you continue, and 'after what happened' is a very good reason for you, not only to do it, but to be even more capable than you already are."

"That's impossible!" She cried, getting up, uneasy.

"Sit down, Elrin" he said, and she sat down again, though why she did so she could not have said.

"The best remedy may be for you to do some work," he said, buttering his toast.

"But that would mean – that would mean – I can't. Look what happened." 

"What happened was because what was natural to you was changed." 

"But without what was natural, I would never have been changed."

"That is perfectly true," and loaded his toast with the thick green conserve, thrilled at it. Her own lay cold on her plate.

_This was muddling, and none of it made any sense._

Her eyes flicked to the door.

"There is nothing stopping you leaving you know, though I hope against all possible hope that you do not."

"Am I clear of that – green fire thing?"

"Yes you are, the talisman came out of you whole – your body rejected it completely." 

"Talisman?"

"A talisman is an object something made with intent, in Voldemort's case, evil intent to corrupt your natural power – your sound."

"I don't want the sound – I don't want to have anything to do with it any more – I don't want the power."

"The power itself is not evil." 

_Huh?_

"It is one of the most important sounds of the universe, something we all have, and which you seem to have in abundance," he said, slowly.  

"Let me show you," and wiping his sticky hands, grasped his wand and drew a three-dimensional coin in the air in burning light in front of them. "On one side is the Phoenix and the other side is Voldemort," and he sketched a quick bird on one and a large V the other.

"They are quite different, but in actual fact they are the same power but with two different faces, one of oppression and force and the other of choice and freedom." 

"Surely – I would have thought that the Phoenix would be the stronger."

"Well," said the old man, stroking the arm of his chair, "it has a strong empathy with what rules both, and he turned to move the coin with his wand and it spun in the air, faster and faster, glowing blue, and then into a burning white ball until it was a blur and pure light and it hummed both high and deep, a mesmerizing, restoring sound and then seemed to switch into a silence. "This is just a symbol of the Deep Magic that is beyond them both." As she watched, he spun it gradually back again into the coin and it stood upright on its edge. Her heart did not feel so leaden.

"You said I was clear – so according to this - I am not."

"You are clean from outside interference, but you still have your inner self to deal with. You as clean as Fawkes, or myself or any of us."

"What keeps us from falling over to the side we don't want?"

"You do." And he moved his wand, so that the coin fell with the Phoenix lying upward.

_Huh?_

"You have the choice, one way or the other to take it to freedom or oppression. It is your own intent. You bring out what you want to offer the world."__

"I didn't have any choice with Voldemort though, did I?" she said crossly.

"No, that was forced on you, but that could not have happened – without there being the potential in you." 

She sat upright, alarmed. 

"You had reached a point where the scales could be tipped. You were beginning to be strong, very strong, your natural power increasing. You were then open to corruption.  Lucius felt it. Voldemort tipped the balance. He used your new found state to throw it over to his side, sealing it with that talisman." 

"Something puzzles me: I don't know if it was a dream or not, but I am sure I heard Voldemort say that the talisman would never come out."

"That would have been true if it had not been for the 'incident' in the corridor," he said, looking at her intently, "Tell me, how did you feel when Severus stood in front of the children?"

"Rage, jealousy, contempt that he would sacrifice himself for them, not me. I believed that he thought they were more important than me. I know it sounds terrible. That was what I was like."

"Of course my dear, I am glad that you are being honest, it will help."

She looked doubtful.

"And how did you feel when he put himself into a life threatening situation by linking himself with you?"

"Well, I was absorbed with the sound, but I do remember flashes: anger at first, then amazement and a feeling of awe like being shifted into another world. That he should put himself in mortal danger just for me. I'm not sure how much it was for me or for the students, but in the end it did not seem that there was any real difference anyway."

The headmaster smiled enigmatically.

"Could he have died?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Yes, if he had not done it for the right reasons. He was also fully aware of how lethal it would be to connect with you. _That_ is what shifted the talisman out." He brushed toast crumbs off his robes. "You lost your innocence. So now you are more aware. You have the choice of ownership. You always have the choice of which side to choose. Everyone does."  

She twisted her hands. "But, but, having tasted the heights of oppression, aren't I more likely to be susceptible to it?"

"Or maybe," he said, leaning over, "maybe you are more resistant, exactly because you have tasted the heights of oppression. You are wiser. You are not a child anymore."

"That's kind of frightening." 

"Yes, it is indeed, and maybe that wariness may help you to continue to use your judgement so that you do not fall into what you fell into before. I have to say that I have every faith in your ability to do so." 

She thought she saw a crafty twinkle in his eye, but maybe she imagined it.

"Severus has done it." 

She stared down at her half drunk tea.

"You think that you are the only one to have been reprehensible and done things unacceptable? I have to remind you that Severus was a Death Eater. I leave it to your imagination to think about what he might have done. I cannot speak of it. Only he can do so. Do you not think that Severus has had to come to terms with his past? And yet here he is, working daily as a totally invaluable member of this staff, as well as his _other_ activities. In fact, he is the only one who can really understand what you might be going through at this time. And you did not actually do anything seriously wrong."

She looked astounded. "Only try to kill children – as well as a member of staff!"

"Attempted, and failed, and did it under enchantment, and I have the proof safely hidden away. Severus did not even have that excuse."

"I made myself terrible to everyone, the staff in particular. I saw Minerva's face this afternoon, and I could see that she was trying hard." 

"The staff will get over it. Severus has had to face them too. He can help."

"I – can't, can't face him," she admitted. And it was a relief to admit it and then she suddenly felt very tired. "I can't face the staff either – Xiomara, Hagrid. All those kind people I was monstrous to. The thought of it makes me sick with fear. I'm – so - ashamed." Appalled at the thought of crying, she steeled herself.

_I have no right to cry. I hate it. Everyone thinks you're either weak or scheming. _

"Take it slowly, they know that it is not your fault, because I have spoken to them. Give them time. You faced me didn't you?" 

"Ah, you're easy." 

"Oh, I am, am I? Well," he said puffing up, "Perhaps I should be a little more like" - as he imitated a lifting of a Severus eyebrow. He did it well, enough for her to burst out in loud, short croaky snorts, but it was laughter nevertheless. He smiled at the effect it had on her and was pleased with himself.

"I know you have it in you Elrin," and he leant over to her and fixed his eyes to hers over his glasses. Suddenly, like a time before that she found hard to remember properly, she felt desperately, deeply tired. She wished she could believe him, but at the moment it was all she could do to keep awake.

Noticing her drifting state, he quickly got up and clicked his fingers. Dobby appeared this time, dressed in his usual eccentrically coloured and patterned outfits. They seem to get more outrageous every day.

"Would you mind, Dobby," he asked, "taking Elrin to her room? She is rather tired and needs someone to take her and to make sure she is settled."

Delight on his face, Dobby said "I would be proud to escort Madam Elrin to her quarters," he squeaked to the headmaster and turned to her with his saucer eyes and they made their way to her room where someone had lit the fire and her bed was already warmed. She slept a wonderful sleep without dreams or nightmares, the first since her kidnapping and the real nightmare had begun.

She slept so well that she missed breakfast and so it took all her courage, all the reserves in her spirit, to go to lunch at the High Table. She tried to creep in as unobtrusively as possible, but with the exception of Dumbledore, she could feel them flinch at her presence and it seemed that it had taken the edge off their appetite as well as her own. The hurts must have many and deep. Severus was not there, and that was a mixed blessing. She didn't think she could cope with him as well as the side-glances and the attempts to ignore her. Xiomara looked across, but she could not tell from that distance what her face revealed, and she looked away in order not to be obtrusive and Minerva was cool but not quite as frosty as yesterday. Hagrid was missing too. 

_Well, bit by bit._

She stared at her soup and fiddled with her napkin under the table. Some students had spotted her and were pointing her out to each other, but it seemed only natural.

_Child killer. What would the Daily Prophet make of it? Researcher turned murderer. Headmaster disgraced._

The Head leant over in her direction and looked at her as if reading her thoughts. 

_I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm here aren't I?_ _This is taking forever. Will lunch never end?_

Eventually, she managed to escape and rushed back to her room, shaking. She spent the time trying to read, but just recycled the last hour in her mind and she desperately wanted to dive into her bedclothes and hide there until her life had passed by, but she did not. She steeled herself through supper and the same people were missing. She wondered where Severus was. With a jolt she realized he might be with the Death Eaters and pure emotion shot through the centre of her whole body, as sharp and as painful as a spear.

_If he is in danger, because of me...._

For a second, she wondered about going to the dungeons to find out, but could not bring herself to even move in that direction. Instead she thought she would go to the library for another book while it was still open in a late opening – it would be closed in a few minutes. Stepping along the corridors, students passed, staring at her oddly, many with fascination rather than fear and she could hear them whispering as she moved on. It was quiet in the corridors; many of the students having gone to their common rooms or bed and the flames in the light holders cast their wobbling light over the arches and the stone floors. Used to the stairs by now, she went up, the high walls packed with the paintings row upon row, height after height until they disappeared upward in a mad frenzy, the whole personal history of the school hugging side by side with one another. That funny looking man waved at her, who she always waved to and she gave a small gesture back. It seemed only a small thing to do. 

_Didn't they get really bored?_

She went up another flight, and then just as she came to the library floor, her stairs flung her in another direction. As she hung on, it swung right round to another floor higher up, and then, just as she was about to step off it and get another one, it shifted again, higher still, and then much higher. It didn't seem possible.

_This is ridiculous._

She saw another stair come down from above, and that swung about quite quickly. She closed her eyes. There was no crash however, but the other swung its way towards hers and she could see who was standing on it, a figure with its arms crossed looking extremely impatient. 

_Just_ her luck.

The two stairs slammed and locked together and then to her absolute horror removed their end attachments so that the whole unit of both stairs hung in midair with both of them on it. She tried looking down, but retreated fast at the sight. 

_I don't suffer from vertigo, but I might after this. And he is standing there at the end_.

"Did you do that?" In her anxiety, she spoke tersely, despite realizing that he probably had not done anything at all. The stairs were known to have ideas of their own. 

 What was he doing here? 

"No, I certainly did not. Did you? I am not in the habit of playing with staircases." He stood stubbornly at the end of the stairs, right near the end. He also appeared to be oblivious of that fact. 

_He was obviously going to be difficult_.

"No of course not. I can't do that kind of thing."

"May I ask what kind of thing it is that you do?" He asked, matching her irritation.

"Only try and kill people."

"You must be conscious of the fact that that was not you." 

"According to Albus it was."

He frowned.

"Well," she continued, as he stood there puzzled. "He said that the power could be good or bad according to what I decided it would be."

"Ah. That is accurate. However, in that particular circumstance, it was forced upon you. You are aware of that I presume?"

"Yes, but it doesn't help. I still feel –"

"Guilty?"

"Yes," she whispered, her mouth dry, not daring to look as he came closer, his robes slithering on the steps as came towards her slowly, step by step.

"You have no conception of guilt," he sneered bitterly. 

"What do you mean?" she lifted her head up to look at him.

"Do you think you have done anything worse that what I have done as a Death Eater?"

"I don't know what you have done."

"It would not be beneficial for you to know, but I was part of that cortège, heart and soul. I was their potions master. Work it out for yourself." he said sourly. " I live with that knowledge every second and it was my own will that sent me there, but also my own will that drove me out. Then I had help here, especially from Albus. Now, I struggle daily with ignorance and carelessness and hubris. I guard others and myself against falling into that part of hell, because I know exactly what is in it." 

She stared at the slight hunch of his shoulders as he spoke. She gained the impression that he never said these things normally but that it was an exceptional statement that she was privileged to hear in this private island in the air.

His closing presence made her aware of the vulnerability of her position relative to the earth below. Every time something was said, he moved forward a little. There was of course, nowhere for her to retreat.

"When is this staircase going to release us?" She looked round, trying not to panic.

He shrugged his shoulders. He was closer still. "When it feels like it," he said, as if he were merely bored. He moved a fraction again.

"Do you that you now recall what happened to you when you were kidnapped?" 

"Yes," she said, as if it were shameful.

"Would you do me the courtesy of informing me about it?" he commanded abruptly, startling her.

"I – he – V-Voldemort put his hand on my heart where – my sound originates – he knew about it and this green fire came out of his frightful hands - and I blacked out with the pain." 

_Better to keep it short. Don't want to talk about it._

"I presume that you were not able to function," he snapped.

"No, I couldn't move nor make a sound. Lucius Malfoy was there, he had a mask on, but I would know him anywhere and it was he who had overheard us outside the door and who also experienced the pain and who told his _Master_.  He thought it was most amusing and wanted me to believe that I was being given something, not being tortured." She paused, "I don't know how you can stand being around him."

He was silent, still regarding her. He moved again. 

"Did Lucius – harm you?" he asked, tautness in his voice.

"No. He was just being _himself_. He seemed human beside his Master. Voldemort – was – was – as you already know, the stuff of nightmare. I never realized that anyone could not only be so malevolent, under that repulsive guise of civility and sanity, but also be so physically terrible to the human mind." She bit her lip and began to sweat with the thought of it.

_Why was he bringing this all up? She hadn't even told Albus yet._

"And he told me that – that we – us two - would reign over the school – together – bringing up his generations of Death Eaters." 

Severus sneered.

"He said the talisman would be permanent."

"Then he was wrong, wasn't he? He said with his dangerous velvet purr. "It would not be the first time."

She wanted to sink down there on the steps and was not sure if it was caused by him approaching so close or whether it was their levitated height. 

"I – I realize I haven't thanked you," she said, swallowing. "I am so sorry I haven't done it before. You deserve better than that." she said in a low voice. 

_I feel sick._

She continued and she looked away over at the portraits on the walls who were no doubt trying to listen. "If it hadn't been for you, not only would the students have been killed as well as yourself, but I don't even want to imagine how much worse I might have become,"

_Keep calm; don't let him see. _

"I remember how I was as well as what I did. Everything." She was not able to face him, but looked down to see his black shoes and the buttons on the lower leg of his trousers. 

Oh, heavens, he is so close, close enough to - 

"Don't you – hate me?" She asked desperately, glancing up.

For answer he stooped down and with one hand held her face and kissed her on the lips firmly with his hot mouth. 

_Falling through a black sky._

Her body wanted to crumble against him. She could feel the heat coming off him and the smell of him made her want to shut her eyes and never wake again.

"It doesn't appear that way, does it?" he growled and the wide curve of his mouth lifted a fraction. 

The stairs had finally decided to move, shuddering and groaning as they shifted, and both of them stood there as they moved downward, their bodies hardly apart. When they got to the lowest floor, he seized her by the hand and they made their way to his office. It was cold in there, and instead of making the fire with his wand as she thought he was going to do, he muttered something at the back wall, and it disappeared into a small corridor leading up some steps and through a heavy door into a massive drawing room cum study. It had a vast latticed window on one whole wall with the darkness of the night behind it and above, the ceiling was carved in white intricate patterns in between the arches that met at odd angles. 

With his wand, he closed both the curtains, and the wall behind him, and flashed '_Incendium'_ to the depths of the huge stone carved fireplace. It wasn't cold in there, she noticed, but the fire made it comfortable and a huge fur rug in front completed it. If wooden panelling didn't cover the walls, acres of books did, shelves upon shelves and she marvelled at their solid beauty. There were even wizard abstract paintings with beautiful colours and tones moving peacefully within the frames. She walked over the polished floors and the faded silk carpets, unable to contain herself as she wandered around, marvelling. "This is incredibly beautiful." 

_Uh._

"Thank you," he said simply, as he took off his school robes, and undid the front of his frockcoat to reveal the pure white shirt underneath. 

"Would you care for a drink? Something to eat?"

"Something to drink would be nice. What have you got?"

"I am not in the habit of asking if someone wants something I cannot provide," he growled silkily.

She should have known better than ask a potions master that question.

"I would like sherry. Medium if you have it." People used to tease me about it and would often ask me to choose something else in pubs. They didn't want to be embarrassed.

"I have some very fine sherry." He glowered. "I presume that these people were Muggles?" 

"Yes," she admitted. And he snorted while he poured her a glass, and not one of those irritatingly coy schooner types, but a good glass. He poured something else for himself – rum by the smell of it.

"Thank you," she said, as they stood in front of the fire, glasses in hand.

"To," – and he thought a second – "to the downfall of Voldemort and his cronies." And they drank to it. For a second, she wondered if he was going to smash his glass into the fire. It might have been suitable gesture, but the glasses had too much quality about them to waste.

_This sherry is gorgeous. _

"Elrin, I have no wish to keep you if you have commitments elsewhere," he said, his voice with that timbre that shuddered right through her blood, pausing close to her, a hand nonchalant in his pocket.

_"I who am all pleasure and serpent green, and drunkenness of the innermost sense, desire you."_

"The door will always release if you just stand right in front of the wall over there and say _Galadriel_. It will open and close, as you wish." As he said it, he looked down into his glass and then just put it down unfinished on the mantelpiece and stood upright before her. "You are not a prisoner here, you understand," he said with an edge of challenge in his voice. There was also a glint of both pain and faith in his black eyes that she had seen when she was lying in the ward – it was unmistakable.

_I can't breathe._

He had put his guard down, and he stood there with his armour off and weapons out of sight, as just a man, his hair densest black against his white shirt and his unbuttoned frockcoat. She fixed her eyes on a throbbing pulse in his neck and her body flooded with its natural desire. 

"Severus.." she said, and did not get any further as she lifted her arms up to hold his face in both hands and pulled his head down and dug her lips into the curve of his own and could taste the heavy rum on his mouth. As she did so, she could hear his single intake of breath and he yielded to his dammed up longing and wound his arms around her as if he would crush her and she thawed like winter snow, her body urging her to bend to him, to seek him and to be filled with him. She began to pull at his shirt. 

"Wait," he said as he pulled back, and she stood there, in wonder at him, in wonder at his very existence, his physicality, his mind, his shadowy heart. 

How had he come into her life; how had she come into his? 

He began to undo her bodice, but gave up as the laces were beyond him, so she took if off, and as she moved to remove his jacket, he stopped her and made her take off her blouse as well, her bra-less breasts swinging free in the firelight and he put his hand out to gauge where the green fire had been and had so recently emerged and bent down to kiss that place between her breasts without touching with his hands. As she halted there in her undress, he indicated with his head for her to go further. He took another mouthful of his drink from off the mantelpiece, and then finished it, while he watched. __

That's not fair.

But the dark glimmer in his eyes prompted her to undo her skirt and it fell to her feet. Then stepping out of it, feeling a little foolish, she removed her knickers and boots last of all, until there was nothing left but skin and a necklace. She could feel the blaze of the fire on her and the very slightly cooler side away from it. Then, still dressed, he kissed her forehead, knelt down to kiss her breasts, stomach, soft downy hair and thighs and then her feet as if it were some kind of rite, in just the way he had waved smoke over her when she was ill, with the same concentration and dedication. 

_"A woman shall awake the lust & worship of the Snake and let he be the adorant."_

She shivered slightly, but not because it was cold. Meanwhile, he still had his clothes on and she felt very exposed like that, but he began to remedy the situation, removing his frockcoat and she wondered whether to help him or not, but decided to leave him to it. However, as he unbuttoned his shirt with just as many buttons, his arms held high to take it off, she imagined that by ducking underneath, she could slip her warm hands under it to feel the contours of his chest and she felt rather than heard him groan as she did so. Elrin smiled with satisfaction into his face to see him look at her in dignified wonder. His next job was to remove his trousers and as he unbuttoned them, she explored his stomach much to his dismay, smoothing her hands down as far down onto his dark pelt as his undoing would allow.

"Let me get my trousers off woman," he growled. 

Then he too was as complete as she, only with his desire evident, the hair below matching the hair above. He must have done a lot of riding or some other exercise because he was toned without being muscled; and quite sleek and ashen and was agreeably formed. She was, with her slim curves, hair falling down her back, slipping as it did round her breasts, her skin echoing the pure smoothness of her face; as summer and warmth and moisture just as he was winter and paleness and dry. While his eyes had wandered all over her, which had made her shiver inside, she had skipped her eyes over him, noting his long lean legs and his strong buttocks. 

"Now lie down in front of me," he directed. 

It felt strange, especially after their mad encounter in the library to be coldly doing what he commanded, but she found that it increased her desire, not lessened it and so she obeyed, wondering how exactly to lie and wondering what he wanted her to do. The fur felt wonderful on her back and her bottom and she squirmed into it, delighted at its touch and she noticed that his face did not alter, but she could see clearly in the firelight, the black pupils widening in his dark eyes.

Then he joined her, kneeling above her and then she was overwhelmed by him doing so, and wanted to touch and hold him.

He reached out his arms to the side of her with his chest close but not touching and she could feel the heat off them and they smelt good.

Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Leave your hands where they are _Madam_." 

"You're torturing me again," she said softy.

"I know," he said with a low smile on his face. One of the few she had ever seen. 

Then with both hands he began to stroke her gently but firmly over her body, in circles over her stomach which made her cry softly and bend her back, and then slid his hands over her back between the rug and her eager bottom and he watched her as she responded under his hands. As he worked his way down her legs, as he teased her round her inner thighs and groin until she began to sweat a little with the agony and then she made a sharp sound of pleasure as his fingers explored and deepened making her so wet she must be soaking the rug.

Then suddenly he moved up to her breasts and circled and stoked until they were full to bursting with his caresses and she clutched him in despair and he did not hold her off this time. For all his tough hide, his skin was soft and smelt of mysterious male smell as well as earth and the nutmeg that she had smelt so long ago in his arms and she ranged over it as far as she could reach. She was in a mess, her body screaming for satisfaction and wanting him, wanting all of him, and her groin searched for a way to get to his hardness that waved above her, her belly reaching up skywards. Clutching his back as if she were drowning, she pleaded for him as she had done in the library, loudly and frantically. Then he moaned in response to her passion, his hardness becoming too much for him to bear, and before she could get to hold him, he had manoeuvred his way into her wetness, and then sighed and began to gain control again, breathing heavily, his hair a damp black.  He slowed down forcefully as he thrust his way in and then placed his arms on either side of her head, and plundered her mouth with his tongue as he drove in and out, and made her moan and crave to open herself so that he could go as far in as it was possible to go and be full of him with her hands flat on his chest feeling his heart beating as he did so. Soon his eyes burned and flashed and she sank into her abyss as he began to take them into plunging, kicking abandon, crying out to each other.

Lying in a tangle of limbs, they gradually came to, holding onto each others' hot and slippery bodies and lay there listening to the fire and the wind outside, buffeting against the window panes, and then wrapped themselves in the rug as they gradually cooled. It was good not to have to move. No embarrassing scramble off a table, no skulking through the dark to cold beds. As she snuggled up against his chest, something erupted within her and she found herself wanting to cry, and immediately suppressed it, aghast at the thought, but found that she could not stop the tears since they seemed to stream at full flow out of her eyes and moved slightly to avoid him finding out. 

_He's just the sort of man to hate that kind of weakness. Damn you for your feebleness._

However, he sensed something and discovering it, grabbed his wand from the chair by them and cried _'Accio test tube' _which shot across the room into his hand and he held it against her mortified face to catch the tears, which eventually began to dry up, but not before he had collected a reasonable amount. 

What are you doing? She asked, shocked.

 "Don't you know, he said, putting the tube away and wiping her face with his thumb,  "the tears of the lover are," and he kissed her mouth "very," kissed, "very" kissed, "precious." 

_Damned potions master._

**References**

CURA NIHIL ALIUD NISI UT VALEAS.  (Pay attention to nothing other except that you be well.)  --Cicero, Epistulae ad  Familiares, 16:5)  

Quote: Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre? (Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you justhappy to see me?)


	13. raptus regaliter

                                                                                                         **_Raptus Regaliter_**

Chapter thirteen

The first thing she heard was the sound of ducks laughing and splashing outside and felt the foreignness of the sheet's strange sensuous material in darkest of dark greens and of the many different layers of bedclothes, topped with a fat eiderdown of deepest black silk. The sun was partly in her eyes, and in shielding them could see that it lit the heavy brocade curtains falling down from the canopy from above her and draped over the whole wide four-poster bed and perceived the source of the light blasting through a massive half-circled window with its curved seat below. Pieces of dark, heavy furniture, simple in style but very worn were scattered round the room. Looking past the curtains she could see what looked like fragments of ancient tapestries placed behind glass round the panelled walls, very faded and brittle. More the bedroom of royalty than a teacher. She could sense the body heat of him beside her, and a strong breathing sound.

_At least he doesn't snore.   _

When she turned completely onto her other side, she observed him lying sprawled beside her on his stomach, his hand near but not touching.

_Not used to this is he? Even in his sleep he keeps his distance._

With her arms underneath her head on the stout pillow, she sighed and studied him with pleasure. There were not many times when she could do so without his awareness reflecting back to her. There was the potions master, the ex-Death Eater, with his mouth open and his eyes closed in blissful sleep, a vulnerable, breathing living being beneath her gaze. His hair, mussed and limp, covered half his face and some of his substantial nose and she was tempted to wake him. She lay there smiling, and her hand wandered in to his warmth and stroked him gently on his back and he half-opened his eyes.

"What are you smiling at?" he growled sleepily. "I didn't give you permission to smile."

His eyes had a further depth that did not seem possible, had surfaced so soon from that darkness of consciousness and that world of the fantastical and the magical and the horrific, where one is vulnerable and open, a puppet of one's own mind. 

_Where had he been to have such a look?_

She pushed him over and lifted herself up and sat astride his torso and he grunted in pretend agony.

"You're a monster," she said, her hair falling onto him, the light catching both of them. "You're not very imaginative with your disparagements," he replied in mock scorn, as he rubbed his dark stubble and studied the joggle of her breasts above him. The proximity of her seat on him was doing something quite spectacular to the region of himself that neither of them could see.

"I'll give you disparagements," she said, and bending down, she sucked at the firmness of his mouth and searched for his thick viperous tongue, then lent back and grasped the solidity that she could feel behind her against her rear. Then she massaged him and watched to see his face change with the sharp intake of breath and his back trying to arch. 

_It was such pleasure to have him under her._

"Now I've got you," she jeered, as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. Then stopped immediately the words were out, memory overtook her and took her hand away as if his flesh burnt. For a few seconds he was puzzled, then realized what was going on, and put an arm around her neck and tried to pull her down on him, but could feel the strength of her reluctance.

"Elrin, it's all right."

She stared away towards the window, the fine furrows on her brow crushed. 

"This is fine with me," he spoke with a low voice. "Look at me." He moved her chin to make her look at him and said carefully to her. And if eyes and with them their thoughts could have burrowed into another's, they would have done. "I will inform you if it is not acceptable to me. This is not oppression. I want you to do this to me. Do you understand?" She nodded as she laid her head on his shoulder, still astride him, but was afraid.

"It feels like power to me: power over someone. You might be able to handle it, but I don't think I can, now. I used to think I was – different, not a person who could do forceful things to others."

 "It is a power, and you need to come to terms with it and learn how to use it, but it need not be oppressive." He took a deep breath. "What I did to you – in the storeroom" and he got his words out slowly,  – "with the ropes, now that was oppression."

"Yes, it was, but I did want you," she said, surprised at him talking about it, because it had haunted her dreams.

"I was aware of it."

"You were?"

"Of course," he said, a smug look about him, his eyes glinting in the sun.

_I could hit him, I really could._

"Nevertheless I had put you in that situation where you had no free will at all. It was not a joint freedom; it was one dominating another."

"You really thought I was a spy?"

"I had to be certain that you were not. You know what the parchments could mean in our fight against the Darkness. It was and is my job to protect them. I had to be sure. I am not going to apologise for it."

"I'm not asking you to," she replied, the scene replaying in her mind. 

"I had you in a position of complete disempowerment. When I found you without guile to my hands and with a dignity I could never have imagined in that situation, I stopped." He spoke close to her cheek as he continued. "I wanted to go further because you were so beautiful, so desirable, but I could not do that – not to you, nor anyone."

"And the Veritaserum? You would not have used that?" 

"Ah. That is a slightly greyer area. No, I did not intend to use it on you and since you behaved impeccably. I had no need to, but I would be more than capable of crossing that line if necessary, rather than rape. If I had found even a tiny amount of guilty behaviour in your demeanour or actions, I would have used it."

"How else could I have reacted under your treatment?" 

"Many, many ways but you smelt of integrity all the way through. However, I could read from you that there was something that did not make sense. You were telling the truth, but hiding from me as well. I could read it."

"You would have found how much I wanted you, and I could not have handled your scorn."

"There was that, there was something else, quite likely the power which you didn't realize you possessed. I was able to feel it and I needed to know its' nature. To know whether it was for good or ill."

"I could not have been hiding something I didn't know I had though, could I?"

"Oh yes, a part of yourself, not acknowledging that you could possible have such strength. The Muggle world has brainwashed everyone to believe that they do not have such potential." 

"It turned out to be for ill and I became guilty though didn't I?"

"Unfortunately, with the use of the Dark Arts at the highest level, the choice of what it was was taken away from you. We knew that when you returned after you had been kidnapped. You had clearly been changed, but we didn't know how and to what extent."

"That was dangerous keeping me around the place. I think I would have locked me up."

"The staff certainly wanted you to be. But Albus and I wanted you in close proximity to us rather than let you be taken by the Ministry. I know only too well what they would have done to you," and he frowned at the thought. "Or much worse still, letting you wander back to Voldemort. With either route, it was improbable that you would have been able to recover, and you would have been part of the enemy we would have had to destroy." 

She paled at the thought and dug closer to him, but said lightly, "Ah, to keep the enemy where you could see them? And I thought you just cared," she said mocking, though her heart did not mock.

"And so we did."

_We, not I._

"I was busy, apart from trying to keep you out of mischief, making a potion which I hoped to reverse the problem, but I could not find the right remedy without knowing the problem; the sounding not being within my sphere of knowledge. If we had had you locked up, there would have been no chance at all of reversing it." 

"And you did, without potion or wand – just yourself – I remember," she said and held him tight and whispered into his ear. "It was the most magnificent thing that anyone could have done and I have you and all the stars under heaven to thank for it. I can't believe I'm that lucky."

"In that case would you mind finishing what you started?" he reproved, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. I'm in agony here."

And between her reluctance and his encouragement, she soon had him clutching the bed with sucking and licking and stroking and teasing and the rapture on his face was something to behold.

For both of them, the rare treat of being enfolded in another's arms, warm flesh to warm flesh breathing each other in, listening to steady heartbeats and the quiet was sufficient and they lay there, just two small bodies within a whirling, crazy universe as their own worlds shifted orbit into one another. They had been spinning round one another for some time and had even threatened to collide, but a part of each now lodged itself into the other and though physically they might spring apart, there would always retain a sizeable chunk of the other lodged into the strata of their souls.

Fortunately it was the weekend, and in this one he had no official duties to attend to, not even at mealtimes, so both of them could relax and take their time. 

_What did I do to deserve this? What star was I born under to lead me to this? I wouldn't mind a visit to Fawkes sometime. I miss him._

After they had lain together for sometime, she told him she would like a bath.

"Stand between the cabinet and that table and say 'bathroom,' it will open," he said, as he threw back the covers and grabbed a huge bathrobe for himself and his wand. Pointing it at a chest of drawers in the corner, he said "Accio shirt" and between the drawer shooting out and back in, a shirt flew through the air to him and he threw it to her to catch.

_Well, he wouldn't have problems finding his socks._

The second he had his bathrobe on, and she out of bed with the shirt on, he snapped "Dobby" and clicked his fingers. He had not considered whether she minded being seen in his bedroom in one of his shirts only just covering the minimum. Not that it mattered. Dobby was there in the instant.

_Didn't they ever go to the bathroom or anything?_

Dobby was all ears. 

"Yes Professor Snape sir, what can Dobby do for Professor Snape?" 

"Dobby," he said to the elf, minute against the tower that was the Head of Slytherin, "would you do me the honour of exercising Aelfsidene for me? If you have the time and the inclination."

His saucer eyes blinked at her for a millisecond, then at him.

"Of course Professor, sir. Dobby would be delighted. Your horse is a pleasure to ride."

"Not too many treats," he warned, glowering.

"No, Professor" and grinned.

"Oh, and could you ask someone to bring up some food – a variety of sandwiches perhaps, some fruit, coffee and…" he cocked his eyebrow to her as if asking her if she wanted anything to add.

"I know it's a long shot, but you don't do French Pastries by any chance do you?"

"They are Winky's speciality!" Dobby cried, "and Winky will be over the moon that Madam Elrin asked" and with his great ears waggling, he cracked away.

_How odd. Severus was polite and respectful._

As she began to make her way across the room, she told him her surprise.

"Well?" he said as he shaved with his wand in the corner mirror, keeping his hair well out of the way.

_I wonder if he could do that on my legs? _

"I'm so used to you treating those around you with abruptness and, and - ."

_Condescension. I'm digging a pit here. _

"Condescension," he finished for her. "Why would I treat those badly who are dedicated to the benefit of the school, and are the foundation upon which it runs smoothly and comfortably and without whom it would collapse. They also do it with skill and with fervour, and without recognition." 

_Someone like you perhaps?_

"Without students, it would collapse," she countered.

"They will always come," he said with a sneer. "Do I assume you consider that I treat my students badly?" He purred provocatively.

"Pretty ferociously, yes," she said with her chin up.

"Yes, and they need it, believe me, and do you want a bath or not?"

As he said this, the food arrived by Winky looking like spring sunshine. She laid in on the table, winked at Elrin and as they both thanked her, she waved and disappeared.

"You have made her week, maybe even month, Elrin."

Something else made her think as she got to the cabinet and turned to him.

"How would a small house-elf manage your horse when even you have a certain amount of difficulty?"

_Is that question going to dent your ego?_

"Dobby is a free elf," he said, looking at her through the mirror, "he has his own magic. Besides, Aelfsidene means 'elf-influence'". 

"And you don't want to use your magic when you ride?" She understood his answer before it came.

"Certainly not, it would take all the fun out of it."

"Masochist," she said.

"Masochist?" he said with a soft low menace coming towards her, slipping his wand into his pocket and putting his arms round her hips and slipping his hands under the shirt onto her bare buttocks.

"I'll give you masochist" and he paused for a few seconds, then Accio'd a flattish cushion from a chair.

"Bathroom," he growled to the wall.

It was a huge bathroom as she might have expected and sunk low so that there were steps down to the floor, then a large sunken pool in the centre of that.

"Oh, black, just for a change," she smirked. For the whole bathroom was in black tiling. It looked very – male, sparse, and luxurious.

With a quick '_Aquatrinium_,' the bath began to fill rapidly; steam rising while he selected some toiletries for them. He took a while over it, as she might have expected. 

"Do you make your own?"

"Of course. Why would I go to the trouble of buying commercial products that are unimaginative and are of an inferior nature? I loathe them." He left her sniff the one he had decided upon. It smelt like nothing she had ever smelt before: it was an exhilarating scent, but could not even begin to analyse the ingredients. She had thought that maybe he would have chosen something ultra male, but it was obvious that he had chosen something that was neither, but was sensuous and beautiful and strong.

"I've got you there haven't I?" he said smugly, tipping an amount into the pool. He adjusted the temperature by sticking his wand in. "You may get in now."

After she had stripped off the shirt, she lowered herself by the vertical steps with tall handles at the top into the blissful warmth, throwing herself back into it with joy. He threw the cushion down on the floor between the steps, and slipped into the water from the side. It was neither too deep nor too shallow, the water coming up to about half her height and they swam and frolicked like two ducks, their hair wet and their bodies clean. He still had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

_Oh, oh. He's definitely up to something._

But for now she lay on her back, floating, the water lazily slipping over the length of her body and he crept towards her carefully, in order not to move the water too much. A wet hand running over her breasts was stimulating enough but then the other one reached between her legs and gently, oh, so gently, massaged her until she gasped with the pressure of the rising tide of her pleasure. So much so that she broke her floating position for fear of going under the water and they both stood in the water as it ran down their bodies, hair in wet tangles, wet body to wet body and the heat of him seemed more intense. His black eyes glittered.

"He is the secret Serpent coiled about to spring: in his coiling there is joy. If he lifts up his head, he and she are one.

With a quick movement, he took hold of her wrist and led her to the ladder with the cushion lying between. "Hold on and place your head on the cushion." From his wand by the side of the pool, he raised the water level until it was as high as it could get.

"Lift your legs, he commanded and ranged his hands over her, her bottom sticking slightly out of the water provocatively. He bent over and kissed her on the neck and then concentrated on heightening her arousal with his fingers and her body flooded.

"That's what I like to feel, you getting ready for my arrival," he growled approvingly. She was beginning to suffer, and when he was satisfied that she was, climbed on top of her and held the rail above her own hands.

"Spread your legs _my lady_, I'll give you masochist."  

She was taking a fair bit of his weight, but the water took some, and he used his arms to relieve most of it, feeling his hardness strong against her. Then he backed off to ease his way in, searching for the right place and gently laid back onto her. 

Gradually, he increased the rhythm and the depth to which he could penetrate and she gasped with the fullness of him. She had not done it this way before and she had always thought it was a rather cold and animalistic way of having sex, but the reality of it was completely different – she felt the whole of his body on her back as an enclosing force-field and his face was a little higher than hers but it was close and it seemed more intimate than she had ever would have imagined. 

He was upping the pressure by degrees and the water was beginning to spill out over onto the floor and she juddered with each thrust.

"Wait…"

"Finding it too much for you?" he asked triumphantly, slowing his pace.

"No, but I'm afraid that if I let go of here," she panted, "I will sink."

"I won't let you sink into the water."

"But – you'll be otherwise engaged…"

"Do not thwart me _Madam_. You need to trust me."

And the weird thing was, she did.

Having slowed to talk, he then continued at a faster and more vigorous pace until she could bear it no longer, his hair slapping across her face and then for a flash, and as he almost reached a peak of his driving force, in the briefest of brief instances, he lent his head down and thrust his tongue out against her cheek.

_If he droops down his head at her, and shoots forth venom, then is rapture of the earth, and they and the earth are one."_

Then he thrust for all he was worth in a wild and angry frenzy, water everywhere, and she relinquished her hold and bucked in her ecstasy, her head back and he grabbed her as she let go and held her head above water as he came inside her and then sank briefly beneath the water still holding her up, came out of her, and then broke the surface, gasping. She wanted him still in her and she cried out with the loss.

"My darling.." The look on his face made her want to hold him tight and she did so, his face relaxed.

"My Elrin," he said and they clung to each other like that for a while.

"Lesson number one," he said as he kissed her gently, "that's what happens when you call me a masochist."

"Some lessons always need repeating," she said, wiping the wet hair clinging round his face.

"That is unquestionably true," he said, pleased.

It was beginning to be uncomfortable as they were, so he reduced the water level right down to a much lower level and altered the temperature, and then with a 'Wingardium Leviosa,' brought the food and drinks down to the side and they ate greedily. When it came to the fruit pastries, she peeled off a large slice of strawberry with cream from the top, held it in her teeth and offered him a bite from it. He sank his teeth into it and took.

"You pig," she cried, "you had most of that."

Then he returned the favour with a piece of pastry with peach from his, and then licked her lips for her. 

When they had washed it down with coffee, kept hot by a simple charm, she asked, "Can you bring the shampoo over?"

He magicked it and she lathered his hair while she knelt behind him on her heels, he sitting like a lamb while she kneaded and strongly massaged tiny circles on his scalp so that he began to drift in his mind. He could never have imagined that something so mundane and which normally took him a matter of seconds to do could be so erotic. He felt her thighs by the side of him in the water and rubbed them idly with the flat of his hands.

_I remember the first time you did that. You had wanted me then and I had not known. Who would have thought it would come to this?_

That he had never experienced this kind of intimate relationship was clear by the dazed look on his face that he didn't even attempt to hide from her. She imagined that he had had perhaps short, brutal affairs when he was a Death Eater, but nothing like this. But then neither had she, but at least she had known it existed. She doubted whether he had had any idea of its existence or if he had, he would have completely derided it as a fabrication or for the amusement of the dumb. 

He looked funny with a white lathered head and she laughed as she moved round to his front. He sneered at her amusement and grabbed her to apply the shampoo on her. He had no idea how to deal with long hair but he tried to do what she had done to him, and although he was inexpert and growled with impatience, she loved his hands on her head and she helped him a little. Then when she was done, she leant over and kissed him fully, lather streaming down both faces and bodies. 

Later, when they had dried themselves off, he said "I have some work to do" and she wondered, by the way he said it, that maybe he thought she might object. 

"Fine," she said happily, putting on her clothes after he had used a Quickleen spell on them, "In your office rather than in here?"

"Yes, damned first year's work. Dismal. Standards are dropping rapidly with the kind of student we're getting today."

She hid a grin from him as he was buttoning his shirt up.

"May I come too?" she asked, the thought of being away from him tearing unexpectedly at her insides.

"Very well," he said, "Assuming that you are not going to _distract_ me Elrin," and looked at her with a soupcon of menace.

"Certainly not," she said with pride. "It's just a long time since I have been in your office – since – " and trailed off.

"It might not be a bad idea. But no – "

"Distractions. I understand Professor" and she gave him a mock bow.

He leered at her as he shrugged his robes on, which made her want to kiss him again. 

It nearly came out of her mouth, then.

_I love you._

But held it back. It was quite likely that he would have scuttled back under his emotional rock if she had not done so.

His office felt cold, so he lit the fire and then sat at his desk, a pile of scrolls by his side, and a derisive curvature to his mouth. She wandered around slowly, gazing into jars stuffed full of organic material and into glasses, such beautiful glassware containers, great bellies of glass full of alluringly coloured solutions, twisted and straight tubes in a confusing complexity of connections, and then there were the obscure objects in murky waters. She hoped that they were all capped tightly. As she looked around for the first time clearly, without other pressing matters, her respect for him grew, since the order and clarity and beauty of what lay before her spoke of his professionalism and his dedication. She flicked her eyes to where he was seated, in his usual black outfit where he sat as a spider in the centre of his web, in the centre of his world, only to find him watching her.

"I'm not distracting you," she said defensively, moving further away, and round behind a table. Even though it appeared she was.

"Don't," he muttered, and turned to scratching and striking at the papers. 

No doubt with the red pen rather than the black.

She looked out over the lake, the sun brightening the area around it, but not penetrating the dark of the lake as if it could, by withholding light from its surface, it could keep its secrets and the different life forms within its depths, from harm. Above, the sky was as blue as she had seen it, and the birds rocketed their way through the air, dive bombing and squabbling and showing off. She saw Hagrid in the extreme side of her view rowing a boat and decided to go and see him soon. She would have to tackle the problem a little more strongly, and not be so passive. She felt she could try that now. She would have to see Xiomara privately too somehow. 

After spending some time, gradually circling the room, poking here and there only tentatively and peering at objects and weird texts and symbols, she decided to sit by the fire and then hesitated, not really wanting to sit in her own usual seat. Nevertheless, she decided to try, and immediately a flooding of the sound came rising up into her mind and she stuffed it back down again, frightened, her heart beating strongly. 

_What if it took over? What if she hurt him? What if he couldn't stop it a second time?_

She knew that it was unreasoning of her; she knew she was 'clean' from the Talisman, and was more or less, back as she was before, but it associated in her mind with the dark side and she feared herself. So, breathing heavily she removed herself and sat in his and it felt comfortable to be in the same space and the moulding of his body, his scent just faint in the cushion. Her mind quietened and she could hear the scratching of his quill like some kind of musical sound against the gentle sounds of outside and the sizzling of the fire and the warmth made her sleepy. Her body felt like as if it had never felt before, as if it were somehow not hers alone anymore, but more hers than ever before. As if the constituency of hers called to the materials around her, the firmness of the leather chair she was sitting on, the sensuality of the large cushion upon it, the rugged roughness of the fireplace stone. So that was how cats felt. She curled up with her arms wrapped round the cushion as if it were a lover, smelling it and drifted off. 

To wake with Severus kneeling by the side of her, holding a cup of something hot that he put down beside her. 

"Have I been out long? Have you finished?" 

"Quite a while, and yes I have, at least for now," he said, still kneeling and on her sleep filled face placed a loving kiss. She held his black-robed substance to her and quietly searched for the curve of his mouth, sending a wave of tenderness through her whole body. She made a little sound of sleep-filled pleasure and then lay back to study him as he took her usual seat in front of her, adjusting his robes that seemed as if they had become bulkier or more powerful by their short absence. Such a peculiarly amazing human being embodied into such a distinctive manifestation and he was with her.

"I love you," she said, shocked that it had slipped out of her and it was too late for wishing it back.

He blinked and she waited for the sound of retreat.

Raptus Regaliter     Royally Screwed 


	14. i want to taste you but your lips are ve...

A big thanks for your support and encouragement in this story to the following writers with their wonderful stories: 

 rickfan37 who has written Snape In Love;   

Gwenn who has written Redemption, 

Spider (not here yet)

and last and definitely not least The Stars Hold Nine Serpents who has written Un Livre des Herbes Foncées, A Dark Herbal****__

_I want to love you but I better not touch (Don't touch) _

I want to hold you but my senses tell me to stop 

_I want to kiss you but I want it too much (Too much) _

_I want to taste you but your lips are venomous poison _

_You're poison running through my veins _

_You're poison._

_Alice Cooper_

"I love you," she said, shocked that it had slipped out of her and it was too late for wishing it back.

He blinked and she waited for the sound of retreat.

(from Chapter thirteen)

                        **__**

**_                                                                             I want to taste you but your lips are venomous poison.                       _**

Chapter fourteen

"What did you say?" he demanded quickly.

"You heard what I said", she replied, afraid but outwardly proud, her heartbeat pulsing loud in her ears.

"I heard you, but what was the meaning?"

"The statement was quite unambiguous," she countered, puzzled.

"You spoke in Phoenix."

"Oh."

_Thank all the blessedness under the stars_.

"I spoke Phoenix did I? How extraordinary. I thought I could only speak that in Fawkes' company. Odd. How can I speak to someone in a language that I have not learnt, nor they understand?"

"Elrin, what did you say?" he persisted.

"I said, 'My darling.'"

He was still for a second or two, his predator's face grim.

"You lie to me. I saw the truth flash across your face and I saw a lie take its' place."

She squirmed, trying to avoid his penetrating eyes, her cheeks flushed. Taking a deep breath, she admitted quietly, "I said – 'I love you.'" 

_There, it was out. She had nothing left to hide._

He had no need to search her face because he knew it was the truth, and so remained looking at her.

"Don't lie to me again," he said, as cool as the dungeon floor.

That was the worse thing he could have said. She could feel her own disappointment in herself through his eyes and her heart sank and on top of that she had declared her love dangerously soon.

Then he added, "Especially with Phoenix."

_Ah, now that made sense. So it was ultimately about the Phoenix._

Something cracked in her. Disappointment, protection, fear all rose up within her in one tide of anger.

"So that is what it is all about in reality – Phoenix, all Phoenix," she said furiously, getting up.

He was puzzled at the ferocity that shot out from her and from whence it came, and so kept a blank face.

"My – seduction – all this treatment was so you can translate your precious Phoenix – well, I've got news for you – it's not going to happen." 

He appeared frozen, his face continuing to be a blank but then out of clenched teeth came "Elrin, don't do this to me…." 

But she was on a roll. 

"Don't Elrin me, you're the typical snake in the grass. I should have known better." 

With his face pale and both hands clutching the armrests, he watched as she made for the door, but other than that movement, made no sound.

"I will leave you alone with your ineffectual potions and your rotting parchments," she snapped, a parting shot that she knew would penetrate him to his innermost core. "Good _day_" and slammed the door behind her.

Out of the door she began to shake and to berate herself for her stupidity. As she ran down the empty corridor, tears flew out. She couldn't believe she had been so high and was now brought so low. But everything seemed so clear now. He was so desperate to get the manuscript completed that he had – pretended to – have made love to her so that she could be persuaded to translate. 

_He was the liar, not she._

A small voice deep within her protested that it didn't feel like that, it had felt real, but she crushed it with the facts. Why would such a remarkable man like him be attracted to someone such as her? It was ridiculous when one thought about it. He was highly educated, had a solid position by the side of the greatest wizard of his age and he was the best potion master in existence, and he came from – from what she understood, from an ancient line of wizards. Even his evil phase had a certain class about it. And who was she? Someone from the suburbs, from a Muggle household, from a dismal, unimaginative, unadventurous family with no pretensions to anything at all, no decent education, and although she had done what she could to remedy that situation and read widely, it was an uphill trek against the tide of indifference and puzzlement. Getting qualifications meant something to them, because that heightened your job prospects, but not for the sake of it, for the sake of discovery and passion and understanding. He was powerful, clever to a fault and so, so wholly desirable. He had aimed his beam at her, first because he suspected her of subterfuge, then so that he could get his translations done. What a fool she had been. Flashes of despair and love on his face when she was ill came shooting through her head and they stabbed her heart, for they were only at the thought of his disappearing translations. 

Veering round a corner, she nearly ran Dumbledore down and he was another one who wanted her for the same reason, that she was useful – all the special treatment and for someone who was a nobody and so she flew past him without a word, robes and hair waving out behind like a curtain in a hurricane and left him watching her flight from the dungeons, which was where he was going that very minute.

Her room felt cold when she went into it, not so much physically cold, as empty of her own vibes, empty of attention, just empty. She needed to recoup. She needed to sit down with herself and work out what she was doing there because she had just cut off her only source of support and if she was not careful, her employment as well. There was none now that she could turn to and there was nothing left. She lay there on the bed, fully dressed, clutching her pillows, but without crying. She couldn't afford to cry. She had to think her way out of this mess, but all she could see was a black hole and worse still, she could still smell him on her body. It was beginning to get dark outside and it remained dark for a long time. She heard something battering against the windows, but ignored it, and eventually it went away, whatever it was. Then it began to get light again, and the pain of her thoughts had her clutching the inner turmoil within her stomach. And then it was daytime and again the scratching, battering sound against the windowpanes and again she ignored it and after many beatings, it went away, and it was silent again. It was a force of nature, to be ignored. And could hear distant sounds and then it got dark again and she began to be hungry, but ignored it and the feeling went away and then as it began to get light again and she realized it was nearly breakfast time, the weekend over. Her thoughts had just driven her round and round in circles, with no way of escape, so solution, no help, no decision, except the one to go to meal times, to show up, to just stay as she was and see it through. She would avoid confrontation with him, would have liked to avoid him altogether but knew that it would not be possible and couldn't think further at this point. His very existence sent her brain off in a spin, so she would deal with one hour at a time. One day at a time. 

As she went towards the Great Hall, her chin up and as upright as she could manage, she opened a side door only to find him walking towards it through the opposite way and both recoiled as if scorched by the very air that they inhabited. She remembered this happening before….before….so long ago it seemed, a lifetime away. He backed off like a proud animal, his head lowered, his robe swirling about him like protection. With a vividness that struck her afterwards, she memorized his entire face as if it were the last time she would see it, and it gave her a stab of pain within her core, but she lifted her head even higher, and swept past leaving him, she hoped, wallowing in some kind of pool of condemnation. So that was the end of that. As she took her seat at the table, she did not look at any individual at all if she could help it, and managed to get a seat where no one had to sit next to her and she sighed with relief. The antagonism that she had felt there before seemed less hostile or perhaps she just was not receiving anything and therefore nothing negative. She caught a flash of black over by the central part of the table and her eyes were drawn to it by their own force and it was he returning from wherever he had been going, to sit down and he did not look in her direction. She had been right about him, and he had not even protested. But he still had a strong motive for bending her to his will, so she would have to be on the lookout for her heart and keep it well guarded. She poked at her cereal and stared at her toast. Coffee seemed the most welcome. She did not see Severus shifting only his eyes to her when he could, nor feel his cold appetite, nor be near enough to see the disenchantment in his eyes. She hoped that Dumbledore would not try to talk to her, for she feared she might get nasty. She was a coiled firecracker waiting to go off, so she jumped when someone appeared at her elbow just as she was about to leave the table. Xiomara stood looking at her.

"Hello," she said as an intelligent opening, because that was all she could manage.

"Hello," said the Quidditch teacher, "would you like a stroll round the garden with me before the beginning of classes?"

She couldn't think of any reason why not, and with her new determination in place, would appreciate the stretching of some time over the space of an hour with something, anything to get her out of the prison that she was in. 

When they got outside, to her surprise it was not cold, but quite warm, but with a breeze. With cloaks, they were fine. 

"Xiomara, I really wanted to apologise for everything," she said, feeling uncomfortable. It seemed that everything was almost normal between them for the few minutes, so it seemed odd to have to return to a difficult time in which she had behaved inexcusably. "I know nothing can take away anything I said or did…"

"I know you did not do anything voluntarily," she said.

"Nevertheless, I remember everything, or at least, nearly everything, and that which I can't remember, I would rather leave forgotten quite honestly. The other is bad enough." Said Elrin, pushing away an odd stone, and was startled, for it got up and ran away through some bushes. 

"You can't go on punishing yourself," 

"No one else seems to be doing it," she said, with a sour laugh. 

"There is a weird sort of light around you, you know," 

"What on earth do you mean?" 

"You look terrible – sorry – you look as if you are going through a terrible time, yet there is a glow that you are giving off, a mixed message." 

"When I envisaged talking to you, I imagined trying to get you to forgive me, and here you are trying to get me to talk about my problems. It seems pretty weird. Sorry, I find the idea of a glow a little ironic at this time. This is the least time in my life I think for glowing. More like standing in a black hole. I don't think I can go down much further. I'm so sorry. This is not what I meant to say. I have to deal with it. I'm sorry; I can't stay talking with you. It's not right." And she made to go back to the house, near to breaking.

Xiomara for answer grabbed her arm in hers and headed off down the path to a bare part of the gardens, more like a tidy field so they could get some privacy. They sat down on a log facing away from the building and immediately the tears began to flow and flow and flow and Xiomara sat there while Elrin sobbed and sobbed until there seemed nothing left. Handing her hankie after hankie, and rubbing her hand gently on Elrin's back, she soothed her gently back to herself. 

"I am sorry."

"Oh, don't waste your breath," said Xiomara, "We all need to do that from time to time." No big deal."

Elrin smiled at the Muggle colloquialism…

"Do you want to talk about it?

"You've done a lot for me already."

"Do I have to wring it out of you? I want to _know_….I'm nosey."

Elrin found the honesty refreshing. "I feel rather..overwhelmed."

"No doubt, which is why you look completely stunned and distraught." 

"I suppose" and she hiccupped "there are two things, entwined with one another and both of them have poison on them."

The Quidditch mistress made herself comfortable on the log, re-arranging her robes. then said, "Do I need to say this won't go further than me?" Xiomara was discretion itself, and out of all the women on the staff, was definitely the most closed mouthed. If it had been Professor Sprout, it would have been an entirely different matter. Even Madam Pomfrey was not altogether pure in this regard. 

"Spill then." 

"One is the Phoenix that Albus wants me to research. Is it safe to talk here?"

"Yes, its fine." 

"Since I have been – back to normal, I have been afraid of – researching -, even though the talisman has been taken out of me – did Albus tell you?" 

"Yes he did."

 "I was so terrible, and had such terrible potential that I fear its return at any time, and am dreading doing any work on it. It involves me going right into it if you see what I mean." 

"No, but I understand the principle. But it wasn't the Phoenix itself that was wrong surely." 

"No, not exactly. I am still afraid though. I spoke some this morning, and I wasn't even aware of it and spoke it to someone who could not speak it as well. It's not the language I fear, so much as the sound that goes with it. It reaches such depths and heights that it is consuming in its power and beauty. Before, I didn't mind if it did so, now I am afraid of it because I might turn on everyone, even though logically, I know I probably won't." 

"Where did you learn it? Have you tried again?" 

"I learnt it from Fawkes and no I haven't. I can't get to see Fawkes without going through Dumbledore."

"And Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore I feel is pressurizing me to do the Phoenix." 

"There is a complication." 

"With Dumbledore?" Xiomara raised her eyebrows as far as they would go.

"No, with Severus. I am working with him on the Phoenix." Elrin realized she could not mention the parchments, but could manage to eliminate mentioning them. Their existence or non-existence would make no difference to what she was saying.

"We – we…."and she looked at the Quidditch teacher willing her to understand.

"Oh, oh," said Xiomara, a bit slow. "Oh right. You and – Severus have been –" words failed her as the thoughts did also.

"Yes," said Elrin before she could. "And it was – was wonderful." Xiomara blinked and tried not to show too much surprise. This was beyond her ken, though she knew the potions master had feelings for Elrin, which came out when she had been - ill. But that they had already been together was complete news to her. They had kept very quiet about it. What fun, she must be the first to know. She would hug this knowledge jealously and giggle as other staff remained in perplexity. The idea that being with him was wonderful was mind blowing. Fortunately, her tastes led her into what she hoped were safer waters.

"Then came the blow. I found out that really, what he wanted was the Phoenix, not me, and that I was just a direct route to the information he needed." She found she had to struggle to keep herself in check, "He had faked it so that I would speak it for him."

"Surely, you had been doing that kind of research anyway, and would be doing it again?"

"Not necessarily, with the state I was in after the talisman came out, I think he was afraid I would not do it, and he couldn't bear it." she sighed, "First he thought I was a spy…."

"A spy?" Xiomara laughed and the wind took it away into the fields beyond.

"Well, that's all right, at least that was not unreasonable. That's old history now." 

Xiomara couldn't help but shake her head. Some peoples lives were so complicated and so full of events.

"Then this. And I cannot move for him in front of me, and Dumbledore behind me, and the Phoenix above me. I am simply at a standstill. I feel like one of those animals in one of Minerva's giant cages."

"Do you," and Xiomara balked somewhat at the question, but felt it necessary to ask " love Severus?"

Elrin winced at the question. All of her body, all of her soul and great chunks of her mind said yes, and her controlling manager said no.

"No. I hate him."

"Are you sure? It could be the glow I can still see, that still seems to seep out of you, despite your pain." 

"Yes. No. Look, whether I do or I don't is not relevant. Severus has his – potions and his position. I know where I stand, and that is nowhere in the equation, and yet still ironically stuck in the centre. I – I cannot go back to my world and I really don't want to, but I am not really here either. It is real enough for me, and I understand you must find that strange, because you were always in it, but I am not sure I should be here or whether I will be magically snatched out of it, just as I trust its' reality. Severus was the first real thing, and now I find –" and she stared red-eyed into the distance, "that was not real either."

Xiomara thought for a while as they sat there in silence, then said, "I am not sure that I am qualified to have an opinion, but for what it's worth, I think that somewhere along the line, you are going to have to make a decision, to decide where your loyalties lie and go with them, wherever they are."****

There continued to be silence between them for a while. It would soon be time for Xiomara to go for her classes.

Elrin was about to thank her for letting her talk, when a rustle from behind made them both jump for Severus and an accompanying black shadow was looming over both of them.

"Severus, I do wish you wouldn't do that," said Xiomara testily, "we are not your students!" 

_How long had he been standing there?_

"Xiomara, would you be kind enough to leave me to have a word with my researcher?" He said menacingly, his eyes locked onto Elrin who displayed the nerves of a rabbit caught in the orbit of a Deadly Mamba_. _

_Just what he wants. Well, I wont give him the pleasure._

"I will see you later, my dear," the Quidditch mistress said and marched away, glancing back from time to time. Severus waited until she was well out of hearing range, before turning on Elrin. 

"What did you tell her?" he snapped, eyes enraged.

"Nothing about the parchments," she said simply outfacing him. "She knows nothing of their existence. She knows only what Dumbledore has told her. I told her a little of my own personal problems. Nothing of any _significance_. _You should know." _

_Hey. That was a stab._

And he felt it by the twitch of his body.

"I want to do some work," he snarled.

"Well, good for you," she shouted stubbornly.

_Don't let me stop you._

"I want you to do some work. That is what you are paid for, and by heaven you will do it!" he threw at her.

"Well, at least that is honest statement," and she glared at him, small hands clutched into fists. "Pity you couldn't have said that in the beginning, instead of taking the long way round."

He widened his eyes and looked as if he were about to blast her with his wand and even took a step forward, but she did not budge one fraction.

"Elrin…" he seemed as if he were about to say something, then stopped, absorbing the look on her face. "My office," he roared into the wind, "two o'clock" and whisked himself away, his robes threatening to take off with him in them.

After her breathing had returned to normal, she returned inside. 


	15. where your loyalties lie

A big thanks for your support and encouragement in this story to the following writers and their wonderful stories: 

 rickfan37 who has written Snape In Love;   

Gwenn who has written Redemption, 

Spider (not here yet)

and last and definitely not least The Stars Hold Nine Serpents who has written Un Livre des Herbes Foncées, A Dark Herbal****

****

**_                                                                                         Where Your Loyalties Lie_**

Chapter fifteen

When she entered his office at two o'clock, it was without hesitation, though she was shaking inwardly. Determined not to give him the satisfaction of cowering before him, she stood on her dignity. Her dignity had short shrift with him however, as he immediately thrust her into her chair and placed himself opposite with a notebook and a quill in his lap and glared at her. He also had a small piece of manuscript that he had not risked giving to her yet and he held it protectively in one hand. Eventually, as the fire snapped and popped beside them, and she had calmed down somewhat, he leant forward.

"Take this," he snarled, and placed the precious fine fragment into her hand and sat back, waiting. The look on his face and the impatient rustling of his robe made her shiver. She swallowed, then attempted to breathe slowly, staring down at the parchment. She could feel the tide of the Phoenix song faint and rising within her, coming stronger, rising and she started to judder, to sweat. She broke away from the sound.

"I don't _want_ to be opened. I don't want to be healed. I want _my armour!_" she cried. "It's safer that way. Otherwise" and she glared at him, "you get taken in."

_What were those emotions passing over his mask? _

The mask that had lately begun to peel.__

"Elrin – I – " 

"Can you" she seethed, "in all honesty, say that you have not been affected by your overwhelming desire to prize open the secrets of the manuscripts?" 

He hesitated, and she folded her arms triumphantly. 

"There. I can sit here all day, all year and I will not open for you. You can rage all you want."

There was, in his body, a reflection of the fact that he had made a decision, and he knelt down in front of her upon the carpet, holding both of her wrists, his face dark.

"Elrin, understand this, the manuscripts are not 'mine', they belong to the community, to the community that wants peace and prosperity and wisdom. They are a part of me and I believe they are a part of you. . The parchments are hidden within my blood, but they not mine alone as they are everyone else's' at the same time. They are not separate things, objects, they are a part of your skin, of your heartblood, of your soul, of your loved ones, of our enemies, of our society, of our nations, of our wider world."

She stared at him, then recovered.

"I don't have a world. I don't know what world I am in. I am a visitor, a stranger, an interloper." 

He looked away, and then back towards her. "Answer carefully: did you not feel more like a stranger in your own land? Have you felt our world to be so different, so alien to your own heart? Have you felt, in your inner self to be _truly _a stranger?"

"No, I do not, but I don't know how I got here and so I could be taken back any minute. Imagine to yourself: what if this world is all false; what if it's all a dream and it's gone tomorrow? What if I had put my all, my life, my sacrifice into it, my heartblood into it, how would I then feel?  To be left with a grey world."

"If you don't do this," he said, "not for me, but for everyone here, you may have that situation here, only believe me, much, much, much worse. In fact you may pray for the return of the grey world as a wonderful paradise." She suddenly remembered Voldemort's chill and his desolate breath. 

He took a deep breath, and the grip on her wrists tightened.

"Two things I have to say to you."

"Could you relax your grip a little? It hurts." He released them immediately upon standing up and she rubbed them and there was a part of her that wanted him to remain close, but wild elf horses would not get her to admit it. He paced a little in front of her and the fire.

"I think," he began, "I may know how you came here." This was a shock and she stared into the flames, almost afraid to know.  "I realized it last night. It was something I had forgotten." There was an awkward note in his voice.

"Some time ago, about this time last year, I did an – ancient family ritual to call someone to help me translate the manuscript." Her head shot up. He was not looking at her as he continued to pace. "It was more a prayer than a summoning." 

_So he had called her. _

"I was….I was also…." and stopped. This was obviously difficult for him to say, so she remained silent. The idea of him finding words to say so extraordinary that she waited without interruption.

_Good._

"I was also in need – of a companion." He stopped. "Oh, that wasn't part of the ritual," he said swiftly turning towards her, his fingers splayed together, "that would not have been appropriate for the ritual, but I realize now that that was an element of my own desire that went into the mix, though I can only see that now with hindsight. I was in a weakened state I believe." He said the last almost shamefully. Her eyes widened at this. She had been with him until up to then.

"Weakened! You believe having a 'companion' is weak?"

He knelt down in front of her again. "In my position, yes, definitely. It is too dangerous. For the Work against the Dark Arts, as well as for the other person concerned."

"Has it occurred to you that it might be of benefit instead?"

"No."

"What is the second thing?" 

"It is part of the first." Again, he exhibited symptoms of discomfort. 

_There's no way I'm going to make this easy for you._

"Only you have penetrated my defences," he looked away as he spoke. A fast and able tongue when dominating, but with his own private emotions, he was slow and reserved. "I did not sleep with you for what I wanted from you. I did that because I desired to, because of my own – private - longing." 

"So you called me – and then you were furious about what you received?"

He blinked, not following her logic.

"I called you," he continued, "but Deep Magic brought you. I had forgotten that I had done it. It seemed a brief, though imperative ritual in an eventful, stress filled time and I gave no more thought to it. So on your arrival I did not connect the two, until now." He sighed, "I can only remember feeling so confounded when you first arrived in Albus' office. I had such intense rage at someone I knew was significant, who spoke to me on an inner level I could not even begin to comprehend. I could not read you, but I could tell that there was something about you that was going to disrupt my life, maybe even disturb the school for which I have been dedicated to for so long, it being my lifeline, my everything, since – since being a Death Eater. I who was all darkness and grief and guilt could not imagine that someone could think of me other than that of a pariah. I suspected the disturbance was going to be on a personal basis and I did not want to be disrupted. I had enough on my plate, and I was stubborn. I had no reason to believe in the goodness of myself, and so I leapt to the negative conclusion. It had to be one or the other that I knew. Added to the fact that there was no way of knowing where you had come from, and whether your intentions were for good or ill. And it is true you _have_ disrupted me."

"I have disrupted your life? I see no change," she said.

"No? No change on the outside perhaps, of routine, of duty, but on the inside…"

"Tell me."

He balked at saying more, "All I can say is, is that you have disrupted me."

"How could you possibly relate to someone like me? I am nothing. I am basically a Muggle."

"No, no," he said and tenderly took her hands in his, and she felt the shock of their warmth and he bent his head so she would not see his face fully and spoke more into her lap, so that she was looking at his black hair, shining from the firelight.

"You are everything. You are special. You have something I do not, or have forgotten, or never had. You have depths I have not dared to plummet; you have heights I have not dreamt of. Whatever environment you came out of has not touched you. You were always destined for here. You have always belonged here. Otherwise you could not have come. It would have been against the laws of Deep Magic."

Elrin had been a passenger all her life, had been a receiver of what life had thrown at her up to this point. All the evolving forces in the universe had been pushing her to make a jump, a leap across into fidelity and to embrace her fate, her destiny and this one tiny step of movement, though apparently insignificant, took her into something of her own choosing, of her own declaration, her own belief in existence and though invisible, it took her life and claimed it, and she no longer belonged to herself, but yet had never been more herself. In short, she surrendered.

"Severus, come here," and with tears that burned down her cheeks, she leant forward and with a freed hand, took his face and pressed her own to his and searched hungrily for his mouth.

"Elrin," he whispered, his mouth half open on hers, "I love you."

She grasped him and looked into the two deep pits of pain that were his eyes to see the truth of it and saw heaven and hell beside one another, in a soul so particular, so distinctive, so conscious, so beautiful that the tears flowed even faster from her eyes.  He did not even collect them, so engaged was he.

"Make love to me," she said. 

Lifting himself up to his full height with his darkness and his robes rustling about him, he held out his hand for her. Assuming that he was escorting her into his rooms, she said as she stood up, "No, in here, where you work, where your life's work is." This hit home to him, and looked around at the cold floor and the thin carpet by the fire and the chairs. Using his wand, he transformed the chairs to a wide couch so that it's southern aspect faced the fireplace and draped soft golden kilims over the cool of the leather, then placed a Silencing Charm with several wards on the door. As she stood waiting, she watched curiously as he gathered several items to place on small tables at the east and the west of the couch, bringing silver bowls of clean water, incense and herbs. As she looked at him enquiringly, he said "Dragons Blood and Frankincense for protection, Gardenia, Lavender and Copal to ease hurt after a quarrel." Sprays of early spring flowers he brought and put into thin vases, and he changed the colours of them until he had decided on white and purple arranged north and south. Then with his wand, finished with a levitation of small candles at each end and lit both incense and candles. 

When he had finished, they stood holding each other in front of the fire, her arms wrapped round on the inside of his robe, and when he went to take it off, she stopped him. "Please keep it on," and though he tilted his head questioningly, he did as she asked. She could smell the school on him as well as his own scent and she burrowed into his darkness and he looked down at her in awe. Taking her hair in his hands, he kissed the glinting strands and closed his eyes, and leant his chin on her head, and then enfolding her with his arms, dipped down his head and squeezed his love for her. In the depths of him, she stirred and began to unbutton his frockcoat, slowly, one by one, until the last button at the top was done, and his white shirt was revealed like a blaze of light on a dark night, and she began to undo that as well, until she searched for the origin of the warmth beneath that. The layers were peeled, and the fruit lay bare under her hands. Then she began to feel his hardness against her stomach and she pressed against him, glad and happy, and lifted her head for the snake to strike down to her and he took her mouth with his own, and thrust inside which shook her groin with a thump of tenderness and desire. He began to remove her bodice, and he managed to do so by himself this time, having worked out what was where and lifted it above her head and then, instead of taking her skirt off, lifted it up and removed her knickers over her thighs with the flat of his hands down to her feet. His hands ranged over her breasts beneath the blouse and then insinuated his hands under to the swollen flesh underneath and she moved herself against his hands to press her nipples against his fingers and groaned quietly into his chest.

"My love," she said, "Oh, my love, I am so sorry, I have missed you."

"Shh, he hissed silkily, "No need. Come here," and he took her round the waist and placed her on the couch so that she was lying down, and lifted her skirt up high. She gazed up at him as he moved her about and cursed herself for her passivity, but all her will seemed to be in abeyance as if hypnotised into a trance. She just wanted him and wanted him and wanted him: she could not get enough of seeing him, sensing him, smelling him, thinking him, drowning in him.

_Be thou my secret centre, my heart & my tongue! O splendrous serpent! They are as upon the earth; I am Heaven."_

He swallowed as he saw her face and bent down to kiss her on the forehead, then moved down to where her skirt had revealed herself to him, and bending down, plunged his tongue in to the source of her own desire and made her cry out loud and grasp his hair urgently.

"Ahhh, Severus…."

"Well, might you cry to me," he growled wickedly, as he manoeuvred his mouth and his tongue to torment and entrance her. "You will have to be punished, my lady"

Gently and firmly he impelled his way round her softness, and circling into her with his fingers until she felt she might scream with the joy and the terrible ache to have him and by now was a rampant disarray of desire, and he leaned back, pleased. The second he stopped, she craved him openly without shame and he undid his trouser buttons, took his trousers and pants off and knelt over her, his robes getting in the way a little, but since she had requested them, arranged them for his convenience and so he covered her like a great shadow and she lifted into it in ecstasy. He slid his hands round her skin under the clothes and kissed the gentle roundness of her stomach, and sought the back of her thighs and her delicately soft ear lobes and then finally, sought her wetness and slowly, gently entered her and her panting rose and encircling him with her arms, abandoned her body to his infiltration. She breathed in the heat of him, the smoothness of him, the angles of him, the vulnerability of him, the astonishment of him, the smell of him, the tautness of him, the predictability of him, the unpredictability of him, the dangerousness of him, the containment of him, the shield of him, the precision of him, the inner and outer fire of him, the deep integrity of him, the sensual power of him, the bondage of him, the ferocity of him, the unknown kindness of him, the controlled focus of him, the hiddeness of him and the deep pain of him.

 " I love you, I love you Severus" she said to those black eyes and that steady face and then left trails of kisses on him where she could reach, on his neck, on his chest deep within his open shirt, on his cheeks and on his nose and on the luxurious curve of his mouth.

And he drank in her love like a dying man in a waterless desert. 

_She is uplifted in thine heart; and the kisses of the stars rain hard upon thy body. _

_Bear up in thy rapture, fall not in swoon of the excellent kisses!_

Slowly, slowly, he dove in and out, until she reopened her eyes to watch him and he had his eyes fixed on hers and the dark pools spoke his need and of his giving. He began a rhythm where both of them breathed nearly together, and his propulsion gradually increased, and she could see the wisps of incense surrounding them and the lights from the candles flickering against him to make an intoxicating mix of the senses. Her heart, full to bursting with love for him and her body following its' desire to contain all of him, began to vibrate without her volition. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, so she did not stop and although he slowed for a second or two, he appeared not to be adversely affected, so she allowed the sound to increase a little until he gasped and he could feel it within himself. Hers' was clearer; his had to find its way through the labyrinth of pain throughout his heart, but it snaked its way into every dark corner of his body until he felt that he would burst with the strength and with the beauty of it. It was the same energy that had coursed through his veins when he had grasped her in the corridor, it was the same blast of expansive feeling, rooted in the centre of his chest and swelled until it reached every microrganism of his bodily existence and further beyond his body. It enveloped everything and everyone in lovingness, in devotion, in partnership, in joining, in the desire and pain for union and in its absolute completion. He almost stopped what he was doing as it was so overpowering, but the force fired his body to the ends of his nerve endings, and so he stayed with the energy and rode it. She, seeing him pause, managed to reach out and gently grasp his balls with her hands and he cursed and increased the depths of his breath, and widened his eyes at her and with one hand, stroked where he could find entrance below her fine curled hair, and is was her turn to groan and buck under him. Smiling with satisfaction at having her under his control, he then bent to kiss her open mouth, his hair covering both of them and then began to take his strength and his solidity to a more potent level until she was gasping loud and strong against him and it seemed like they were one in their union, that the heart vibration still sounded in his blood and that it spoke of things he had never experienced in that lifetime and it was as if he were newborn into another world. Then as he felt her opening up inside, he plunged good and hard and watched her wide eyed and flushed, jerk against him and he felt her squeeze him inside and he exploded into her and he crashed through an invisible barrier of his heart, one that had been erected for a long, long time and felt his heartblood spill out to mingle in both their souls.

_For I am divided for love's sake, for the chance of union._


	16. the master potion maker

**_Thank you very much all who have reviewed. It really is very heartening, and I would love to hear from those who have not done so, and ask those who have to continue. _**

A big thanks for your support and encouragement in this story to the following friends and their wonderful stories:

rickfan37 who has written Snape In Love;

Gwenn who has written Redemption,

Aracne's Child  and her story Domina Rising

and last and definitely not least The Stars Hold Nine Serpents and her Un Livre des Herbes Foncées, A Dark Herbal**__**

****

Chapter sixteen

**_The Master Potion Maker_**

****

There was a strong pressure on her chest as she woke, and realized it was his arm encircling her, as if he thought she might disappear without his intervention. The white shirt that he wore embodied the essence of him that people never saw, so proficient was his smokescreen, and the small piece that poked out beyond his jacket sleeve was like an absconder, an indication as to what he hid beneath the sinister darkness of his dress and demeanour. People saw him and heard him, and in fact could not avoid doing so, but never appeared to justly consider his actions, so transfixed were they by his intimidations. Elrin sighed and snuggled and spooned against him and as he had nothing on his nether regions, wiggled her bottom there with a mixture of seduction and innocence. From the moment she had awoken with a satiated heart, she had felt her bodies' tranquillity extend from the deepest centre of her body to the outer silkiness of her skin.

_How much happiness could anyone take?_

As she lay enfolded in the arms of someone who's life-blood surrounded them in years of patient study and discovery, she absorbed the passion of his vocation as one who had never experienced the phenomenon before. Passion was overindulgence in her world, since no one she had ever known did anything unless it was initiated and approved of by others and when the assignment was completed, they expected immediate and substantial reward for their trouble.From her relatively low perspective, she could still observe his desk, and by the warmth of it's lamp, could see the high thrust of quills from the inkwell that waited for his hand and the piles of assorted parchments, well-worn books and antique weights that formed the busy nucleus of his profession's everyday labour. Behind them on the shelves like secret worlds, stood innumerable jars and this was where his heartblood lay, measured out in hours and years of collecting and investigating and dissecting. Those organic substances that belonged to hoof or claw or scales huddled within opaque and misty liquids to be transformed, their existence extended beyond their natural decay. Magnified behind slick glass, they constantly revealed and disappeared within their murky depths, eventually to yield to the potion master's hand or knife. Other stored objects were void of moisture, rattling and snapping in their stoppered jars as dusty, fine particles of roots and bones clung onto the sides of the glass like drowning particles. All of the earth's substances were dissected and pounded from one form into another, their original selves metamorphosed, distilled and brought into contact with uncommon bedfellows in the fervour of the cauldron, stirred by a slow hand. Then they could reach a hermetic ecstasy that none could reach alone as the potion masters eye and mind assembled and exploited them for his will and purpose. She had instinctively wanted to remain in his workroom because that was where he had his being, his solid centre, where he spent and renewed his life force, where the privacy of his own chambers encountered the outside world. It was a centre of concentration and fierce control, but still retained the dark poetry of evolution and quest. Now she had added her own distillation to his world but what she had brought she could not tell, except that the alchemy had shifted to something else quite different. 

Turning her head to see that he had woken already, she pulled his free hand further in to rest on her breasts, which brought his head beside hers.

"You made the sound," she said softly.

"So did you," came the low rumble of his voice vibrating through her body as he tightened his arms about her.

"It didn't hurt you, did it?"

"No, it didn't." It was – remarkable." He found himself inarticulate faced with the breathtaking affirmation of life at such close proximity. So used to his own savage criticism and derision of others as well as himself, he felt confused when his heart was seized, though that had been such a rare occasion as to be almost imaginary. The breach in his armour was too recent for him to find superlatives for the glorious sound that he had experienced, even though he felt at ease with her. Though he noticed, that he could read in her a new strength that he had not observed before. Was it new or had it been there from the beginning, undetected? He could not tell.

"I can't imagine why it hurt you before," she said.

"I suspect," he said, shifting his body weight to become comfortable, "that it was not the sound itself that injured me, but the very act of me preventing its admission."

_That made sense._

She twisted her head round to see his face and although it remained aggressive in its profile, eyes shooting sharp judgement out from beneath predatory eyebrows, there was at that moment more than a hint of quietness in that glassy darkness. Taking her hand from his she reached out behind to stroke his mouth. As she reached the lower lip, he bit gently and she slid a finger inside feeling the sharpness of his teeth and the strength of his tongue, and was aware of movement behind her hips. He breathed heavily and she could feel his hot breath on her finger and he pulled it out and kissed it and continued with the rest of her hand. That gesture made her want to encompass him and seek him and hurt him and devour him.

"Have you not had enough, my lady?" he said, amusement not far away, though his face was straight.

"I'll never have enough of you," she replied, stroking his arm through the sleeve of his jacket.

"I think you may," he smirked bitterly as he bent his head above hers. She turned her whole body round to face him and caressed the shock of his hot skin with her hands underneath his shirt. She could feel the complete length of him, his complete height, as if there contained within that measurement all that she desired. 

"What is it that you were thinking so deeply about?" he enquired teasingly, as he shifted his weight to accommodate her new position.

"Your work. You."

"What could there possibly be of interest to you?" he mocked, affecting boredom.

"Nothing specific. Just – that you care so much about all kinds of mysterious substances and the strange processes that you develop. I was thinking about your knowledge, your experiments, and the idea of transformations that are produced from them: how you deal with life and death as a principle on an everyday basis: how you are looking for the Ultimate Potion. How could that not be of interest?"

He tilted his head to one side as if seeing her for the first time, and placed his wide spread hands on either side of her face and kissed her with an open heart.

"Could anyone have more pleasure?" she said as she snuggled into his neck half-hidden by his shirt. She had not required an answer, as it was simply a statement of happiness, but he responded nevertheless.

"Oh yes, there could," he replied mischievously as he searched in his robe which was awkward because it's vast material was twisted round them both.

_What is he up to? There's that look again._

Puzzled, she waited, and then he found what he was looking for, and carefully continuing to maintain eye contact, manoeuvred amongst their clothes to get to her hips and she felt his fingers directly on her hot wet centre and then felt him slide something rigid and thin gently into her. He watched her eyes widen as she realized what it was, and grinning wickedly, he whispered '_Orgasiate Sensorium_.' She opened her mouth as the sensation hit and then slowly twisted with increasing desire and he leant over her and held her steady with one arm while clasping his ebony weapon with the other. Gasping, the waves coursed through her lower body, making her bend back to thrust her chest high, her breasts breaking through her open top, as if she wanted to lift off.

"Fervo Sensorium," he said softly as he leaned his dark shape over her.

"No, not stronger," she pleaded, "It's already…" as within her wave upon wave of pleasure mounted higher and higher until she felt ready to disintegrate, her limbs beginning to tremble.

"Oh Severus, oh, no, this is…cruelty," she cried out while he watched with half closed eyes as she thrashed around under his control, gasping and kicking, flinging her arms and legs out in helpless capitulation with a mixture of pleasure and torture until the internal ocean broke over her, waves rippling out from her secret centre and shot through her entire body which shuddered and bent and jerked to a halt. She lay still, panting below him, watching his eyes dark and as hot as the flush on her skin.

"I like to see you abandoned in front of me like that," he said with the lip-curling satisfied conceit that only he could produce as he gently retrieved his wand, and then kissed her on the forehead, pushing hair away from her face. For a while they lay in silence while she recovered slowly like a rag doll over his arm. It took them a few seconds to realize that there was a knocking sound that had them both paying attention.

"I thought there was a Silencing Charm on it," she whispered, as they sat there as still as the jars surrounding them. Then both reacted quickly, reaching for their clothes together.

As he got up and put his trousers on, he said, "Sound cannot go out, but it can come in."

He cursed with the slowness of the muggle-method and with his wand dispatched everything back to normal, including their full complement of clothes, and changed the couch back into its original chairs, and all the ritual accoutrements vanished.

"Your hair," she said, indicating his mussed locks..

"And yours," he replied curtly. "I suggest that you sit down by the fire in your usual chair," he directed as he moved over the other side to be at his desk.

Another knock. Severus, having an idea who it might be from the sound of it, swiftly removed the wards and the charm from the door and then pushed his hands down to smooth his hair and the second she sat down, called, "Enter."

The Headmaster, who looked bright and cheerful, sailed into the office and it seemed to her that he appeared larger than life than usual, more upright or that his robes were more bulky and extravagant.

"I do apologise for disturbing you both." In reality, there was no way the old man could have been deceived about what was going on, for in fact no one coming across them could fail to feel the auric field that united the two figures who were currently at opposite ends of the room, could see invisible cords reaching from body to body. The air must also have been electric with their lovemaking, because she could feel it coming out from her fingers and her hair and her eyes like immense beams of light. Severus, despite his hair being in slight disarray, was better at disguising it, but his eyes did not meet the headmasters'. So although it must have been obvious to Albus, he pretended, like them, to exhibit an air of normality and unconcern.

"I have a little news for you that I feel you must know about, and that is the return of Lucius from his sojourn in East Africa," he said, not looking at the potions master directly, but to the room in general, she felt, in order to give Severus time to collect himself.

_Very diplomatic._

" I know you thought he was going to be there longer, but I have indications that Voldemort _knows _and Lucius has been recalled." he said, looking towards the desk, "And the second thing is that I have invited Remus over – discretely of course – just to keep him in circulation, so he may pop in to see you sometime. Is that acceptable, my dear Severus?"

"If he must," growled the reply from the desk as he shuffled through his first year papers. He was so transparent to her at that moment, she wondered for a moment about his ability as a spy, but perversely, it made him even more beautiful in her eyes.

"Lucius is another matter," he murmured, getting up.

Elrin remembered that which she had put out of her mind for some time.

"Do – you think he will try and put the talisman into me again?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"It is highly unlikely," replied Severus, "Voldemort doesn't like to be seen to be in error, and would be fearful of making the same mistake twice."

"Yes," said Albus, "that is his mistake. Errors are guides, not something to be avoided. Without them, we are never likely to succeed. And with that homily, I think I will go and have some supper. Are you two joining us?" he asked ingenuously. It felt a little more like a command than a question to Elrin, and perhaps to Severus too, because he put down some scrolls, and replied, "Certainly Albus, if it is time."

"It appears that you have both been so wrapped up in what you have been doing, you are in danger of malnourishment." Both sets of eyes looked anywhere but at each other or the Headmaster.

"You have about five minutes before the gong I believe," said the old man, exiting, humming quietly to himself.

As soon as he had closed the door behind him, Severus snapped. "I wish he wouldn't hum like that, It is extremely disturbing."

She laughed and put her arm round his waist and said, "Well, shall we go? Maybe I had better go first since perhaps we shouldn't be seen together?"

"It's not quite like that," he said, looking a little disconcerted at her statement, but was nevertheless glad that she had spoken their problem aloud, and that she was not going to make a fuss.

"I know it's not. We should not be seen, I understand. Now more than ever. I shall ignore you and look upon you with contempt," she said, smiling up at him as he pulled her close.

"Not too much contempt," he whispered against her hair.

"I am more likely to be glowing than anything, according to Xiomara anyway."

"What do you mean?" he asked immediately suspicious.

"She knows about us," she said, and when he rolled his eyes, she continued, "I'm sorry, she was kind when I was – down.  She said that although I was – unhappy –I had a glow about me. If I was glowing then, I must be like the Northern Lights by now. Let's hope I can dampen it down a bit," she said playfully as she made her way to the door.

Despite the awareness of her guilt, there was no denying that she could feel the confidence of her step as she had entered the hall, and was acutely conscious of the sensuous rhythm of her movements as she took her place, her face clear and without guile and it was if she were swimming in some enchanted air, so bodily energised was she. The vast glow inside of her radiated from her heart, and she basked in her wholeness, her existence, but held herself from an open display of it.  It was thus a different person who took her place at the High Table. It was quite full that night. Most of the staff attended, including Hagrid, but he was at the far end. It seemed that she was no longer the negative centre of attention, because fortunately no one seemed to take any notice of her. She sat next to Xiomara, who had waved her over.

"Come on, tell, you look like the dragon that has the bullion," she giggled.

"We need to keep it quiet," Elrin lowered her voice.

"Quiet?" sniggered Xiomara, "You are broadcasting to the nation with that glow. Especially since you have been slinking around for some time now in guilt and shame. The contrast is extraordinary."

"Maybe, but no one would guess why," she said.

"Or rather with whom," her friend replied, as Severus entered by the side door

 "Can you stop looking at him please?" Elrin pleaded.

_I think he'd better talk to Xiomara as her House Master._

Unfortunately, there was only one seat left, so he had to sit next to Elrin. Dumbledore subtly nodded at her, which made her blush foolishly.  Xiomara flashed her eyes at her, and then seeing her frown,  busily concentrated on what she would like for her supper. As he sat down she could feel their subtle substances mingling between them, but she carefully did not look at him, and as they began ordering, he spoke with Minerva on his other side.

_Bet that isn't easy for him._

There was such a heightened awareness of his bodily presence and his magnetic pull, that she found it difficult to listen to Xiomara chat away, but allowed her talk to flow over her. Elrin, while nodding to the Quidditch mistress, invisibly focussed on the wizard on her other side, her body still felt as if it were wrapped with his, and the sight and scent of him filled her world, but was reassured that she could hear him murmuring beside her, inches away, though untouchable. So it was her awareness of him that enabled her to first feel the tremor in her own body rather than see it go through him. Out of the side of her vision she saw him freeze and then twist slightly to his left side towards her and heard despite the general hubbub of suppertime, his sharp intake of breath. Instinctively, she stopped as well as if to defer breathing in sympathy with him, and there was for a moment, a pause in their two lives, a moment of duel suspension where they dared not hope nor fear nor love, for it was akin to the opening of Pandora's Box, where worlds shuddered and time stood still. She dared to look at him, and saw that his face was as white as the Headmaster's beard as he gripped his left arm, and breathed slowly and deeply. She knew what it signified, but waited for him to collect himself, saying nothing. His pain divided them as surely as a thunderbolt, tearing him away from the focus of his existence, but it also brought them together, feeling their unity as strongly as if their bodies were fused together.

"There is no need for you to be concerned," he said quietly, as if he were making conversation, while focussing on maintaining his dignity as the pain ripped through his forearm and screamed in his brain.

_Would Voldemort do anything to him because she no longer had the talisman?_

She could not keep a flash of alarm from appearing on her face. Reading her, he said, "He will not do anything to me. I will have some explaining to do, that is all. No-one knows what brought it out, so as far as Voldemort is concerned, it was incompetence," and he sneered. "If anyone, he is likely to take it out on Lucius."

_I want him here. I want him safe._

As well as giving them both away, he would, she guessed, not appreciate the anxiety that she would express given the chance to do so. Her heart ached to see him struggle with the sudden pain, and a shattered lock of hair across his face hid some of the bleakness in his gaze. He sat there totally immobile and her instinct was to hold him, but held herself perfectly still.

"I do not wish you to follow me," he commanded her, "I will be fine. I will return presently." He could see that she was dealing with this in the way that he approved of, and oddly he looked for a second as if he could have kissed her, then turned his head away again just as she saw something very odd. She thought for a minute that it was an illusion, some distortion of vision, but when he moved again, it flashed there again, and she was sure that there was some subtle transformation happening to the upper part of his face. He saw the doubt and confusion on her face and immediately took action.

_What the hell was that on his face?_

"I suggest that you get on with your supper," he snapped as he got up and marched swiftly out, nodding to Dumbledore as he went, lamps flickering as he shot through the door, throwing his shadow in disarray, and it was as if she too flickered, as if his darkness were as a light and his absence left her as blind as his familiar.


	17. roses are red, moonlight is blue, i'm in...

                Roses are Red, Moonlight is Blue, I'm in the Shite, and So are You 

Chapter 17

She found herself in suspension as if imprisoned in one of his many jars, peering out at the magnified and distorted world. There was a determination in her not to be frantic and was in fact reasonably controlled, but was jumpy and was unable to concentrate on anything for very long. For many hours she found herself pacing a round robin of corridors as well as the entrance halls and even managed to stop off at the library in order to do some research. No sooner was she at the library door, than found herself standing yet again outside Severus' office door. Although she could not enter, she could sense that he was not there: it had a deadness about it, so she continued to roam the school. Part of her tour led her outside the Headmaster's office and she stopped to stare at the great grandfather clock in the corridor outside it, mesmerized by the great pendulum that swung gently to and fro with the booming noise, its' ticking seconds measuring out their fate. As she turned, she met Albus coming down the spiral stairs from his office.

"My dear," he said gently, as he came towards her. She looked at him hopefully, but his expression told her that Severus wasn't with him. Determined not to break down, she stood stiffly, unable to make light conversation. 

"I would really like to see Fawkes," she said – "if he is awake of course", and managed a half smile. 

"Of course Elrin. Please just go up, the door is open. He was awake two minutes ago, although I can't guarantee that he is now," he replied, raising his eyebrows. She was glad that he gave her no false reassurances about his head of Slytherin. She could not have bourn them.

"Thank you," she said, and went up into the silent room and as she opened the door, the atmosphere fell over her like a quiet balm: as if that all that was within it was connected to great things, to the great tides of history, of human thought and struggle; to events and ideas that were much bigger than her own life, but as if she were part of it all, a small ingredient, but not insignificant. 

Fawkes was indeed awake and looked eager to see her. 

"I am glad to see you well, Elrin," he said as she approached the scarlet bird.

"Thank you. It's good to see you again."

"I'm not going to give you false reassurances either," he said, as he idly tackled a succulent nut that he had discovered in his bowl. That comment made her jump internally.

_Were he and the Headmaster joined at the brain? _

She maintained her calmness nevertheless and said nothing.

"Things have moved on a little since I last spoke to you, I believe?"

"Yes, we – we – that is, Severus and I…"

_How can I put it?_

"We – are – a couple." 

"So coy, my dear Elrin."

"Well, it's not a formal relationship."

"You mean you are sleeping together."

_A giant bird is talking to me about my sex life._

"I -  yes. We do – love each other."

"I'm glad both of you have realized it."

She could contain herself no longer and said, "He's in danger. And I fear I may have made things worse for him."

"There is no way for you to know what would have happened to him without you. There is no way to know the future where our choices led us in another direction. Events may or may not occur despite your decisions. You are part of what is happening." Reassurance appeared to exude from him like the smell of baked bread or a soft summer breeze. She drank it in unconsciously and it eased her heartbeat.

"I can get back to translating the manuscript once he has returned."

"Good, good, that would be excellent," replied the phoenix.

"It's still worrying about the potion going wrong on poor Remus, she said, Severus was so profoundly disappointed, and almost ashamed I think, though he would never admit it."

"Sometimes it is helpful to retrace your steps," he said enigmatically.

"We went so carefully, though I have a feeling that.."

He waited for her to find the words. 

"There is something about the text that makes me think – well, it's crazy really."

He said nothing.

"It's not very likely."

At his chest, he found a particularly interesting feather to tweak.

"He would never countenance it.

"Are you not prejudging his reaction? Maybe what you are thinking is not so foolish."

"It seems so unlikely."

"Nevertheless. You have brought your skills to this study, and so you could have more confidence in your own thoughts." 

She changed the subject. 

"This sound is very powerful isn't it?"

"It certainly is."

"He has begun to sound it himself, with me."

_"Has_ he?" Said Fawkes, impressed. "That is early. Congratulations to him."

Talking about him to the bird held off the dread that sat in her stomach, but images of him flashed so powerfully in her mind that she felt she could vividly see his shift from deadly stillness to sharp movement, his calculating look of assessment, his lethal, knife-like mind and in her arms, his eyes growing from bat black to warm darkness.

She hadn't realized that she hadn't spoken for a while.

"You are doing well, Elrin," he said looking straight at her.

She didn't want him to be kind, as she might crack open, but he went on.

"He needs you to be strong."

"I know."

"You are strong."

"Am I?"

"You know you are." 

"I don't know anything of the sort."

"Know as in knowing the deep centre of yourself." 

She looked askance.

"Not your aching heart, not your stomach, not your worried mind, but the centre of you that is constant, that no one can touch – that is you – that is your strength."

"You make it sound very simple."

"Well, in essence it is, but in practice, not easy. You are well on the way though."

"If you say so."

"Know that I am here if you wish to talk."

_I remember hating him when I …._

"I avoided you when I had the talisman in me."

"I know. It was a hard thing for you to have endured."

"It did not seem hard to endure at the time. It was easy."

"Nevertheless, your body and your mind suffered a change of heart that your soul had to endure." 

"And the people around me."

"That is true."

"Which reminds me," she said, beginning to feel the urge to do something, "I need to go and see Hagrid. I have not spoken to him since – since that time. I feel I need to make sure I did not hurt him too much, or if I did, to apologise. He is too kind a person to neglect."

"He is indeed."

"I'd like to go now and see him, even if it is a bit late. If he hasn't gone to the Three Broomsticks of course." 

"I believe you may find him there at his hut**,** right this minute."

"Thank you Fawkes, very much," she said.

"You are welcome, as always dear lady. And for now, I'd like to a little nap."

Her internal tension transformed itself into action, and with shining eyes, was eager to find the half-giant and make up for her cruelty, so giving her farewells to the phoenix, she rushed off as he stuck his head under his wing. 

Hagrid was placing some logs on a large fire outside his hutwhen she arrived, and she stood there for a while watching the flames rip through the darkness and the cool of the evening, the heat on her face. The perfume of beech and ash reminded her of bonfire night, and idly wondered if they celebrated it here.

_What do I say now I'm here?_

Her feet had carried her there without her brain. 

"It's a nice fire," she remarked pathetically.

"Yeah," he agreed gruffly, his tone not unfriendly, but neither was it friendly. He busied himself with poking it with a stick, and she had the impression he was hiding in the actions. She took a deep breath and it came out in a rush into the night air.

"Hagrid – I need to say, I need to apologise for those things I said and did some weeks ago."

He shifted uncomfortably. 

"I know an apology sounds so lame," she said, holding her cloak defensively around her, "I'd like to be able to take everything back, but that's not possible."

"Well, er," he said, struggling, "you were under a spell, an enchantment. Wasn't your fault." 

_I can see the remains of hurt showing._

"No, but the truth remains that I said and did those things and people have been hurt. People like you, who I would not have wanted to hurt for all the world."

_Now I've really embarrassed him._

"Er, um," he muttered, coughing into his beard, "it's all over now. You're back ter yourself. Aren't you?" He looked a fraction clearer in his face, his huge eyebrows less compressed.

"Yes, I believe so."

"That's all right then." He leant over to the side of him where he had some supper, and sliced up what he had on a large plate.

"Like a bit o' cheese then?" he enquired, and politely offered her the plate.

_Was it cheese made from the usual source or  from Griffin milk or even - Snake milk? _

"It's a good Cheddar," he explained, seeing her hesitation. She didn't particularly want it, and it was his supper, but since it was a peace offering, she couldn't refuse it. They sat then in companionable silence, eating and listening to the cracking and spitting from the flames, sparks shooting up into the dark like fireworks and the close hooting of owls round them. The moon was huge and very bright and was at its' full splendour as it sat high in the sky above. She felt it's power and shivered. 

Eventually, he said, "Severus gone off then?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, moving nearer the fire, her body moving instinctively. 

"Saw him around the gates yesterday, I thought he might have – business to attend ter," he said tactfully. Her stomach couldn't help respond to the image of him, secretive and alone, heading for the most sinister power that existed.

"Don'cha worry, Elrin," reassured the half-giant, "He knows how ter take care o' himself. He's a cunnin' one."

"Yes, sure," she said, lying. Then as she bent towards the fire and peered into it, a dark flapping shape came between her eyes and the heat, but after pulling away sharply, realized that it was Sampeer.

"Hello little one," she said, trying to fend him off without hurting him.

"Ah, said Hagrid, "that's that bat I found."

Still he persisted to flutter round her face and could hear a barrage of tiny squeaks. 

Then it moved off a little, and came back. Something stirred in her mind. It repeated the process and suddenly she was clear. 

"Hagrid, it's trying to tell us something." She stood up, and the bat flew further away towards the Forbidden Forest. 

"He wants us to follow him."

"Eh? That bat? Nah, it's just friendly like." 

"It's not just a bat, it's Severus' familiar, Sampeer."

He looked at her in surprise and did not move.

"Please Hagrid, I _know_ Severus is in trouble and he wants to lead us to him." 

"Are yeh sure?" he asked, doubtfully, but as soon as he stood up, the bat zoomed up to him and flew back further towards the dense trees.

"Does look like he wants us ter follow him," he said and began to snap into action. "I'll jus' get me crossbow an' a light and I'll be with yer in a jiffy."

"Hurry, please," she cried, feeling the cold now.

They could not run through the forest: it was too full of enormous twisted roots and grasping bushes, but Hagrid kept up a reasonable pace along the paths, holding the lamp up high in front of them, the brightness not making much headway in the filmy darkness. Fang ambled along behind them, afraid to sniff at anything in case he got left behind. She couldn't see ahead because Hagrid's bulk filled her view but could sense the threat of the forest on either side becoming denser and chillier as they advanced further into the heart of it. All the power of the forest hung in the mist around them, seeping into their nostrils and whispered to them the dark secrets of the tormented. Even the trees no longer appeared as organic sentinels but as converts to murder and mayhem, and swung their branches ever closer to the two figures walking along the path.  It was not only physically dangerous to be abroad in there, it pulled at their psyche. From within it's obscurity came siren calls of suicidal urges that fed their secret hungers. If it could not tempt someone to those, it challenged them to mortal combat. Once having given in to any of these seductions, the forest would claim them for it's own and they would never leave again.  Eventually the darkness sucked at their souls so that their feet began to flag as if they were wading knee high through enchanted treacle. Hagrid's crossbow was at permanent readiness, his scowl locked into the business of following Sampeer who veered this way and that, and who checked and rechecked that they were following correctly. He also kept flying back in front of Elrin, dancing on his tiny wings so that she had to shoo him off to advance at all. She did not dare think of what she might find, but was almost reassured by the bat's frantic movements, indicating that there was something to find. 

_Hurry, Oh, hurry._

"We're right behind yer, Sampeer, keep going. Just show us yer master," said Hagrid, grimly scanning the trees. The light that Hagrid shone aloft was getting smaller somehow, was extending less than it had done before as if it shrank in the presence of malevolence. Fang was panicking and it was only the presence of Hagrid that kept him going. As she stroked the dog's huge head, she could feel the tremors going through him. The full fat moon that had followed them, was glimpsed now and again above the trees and surrounded by a corona of light green. The gamekeeper muttered every time he saw it, swinging his crossbow extra wide on his arm. Sampeer was almost apoplectic by now and was being more of a nuisance than a help and it was just then that he swooped over some dark shapes that revealed itself in a wide-open ground. He continued to swoop low and both of them raced towards where he dived down behind a huge tangle of bushes. The shrubs held a mass of dark crimson roses, beautiful, full-bloomed roses, lit by the moon's cold light, incongruous amongst the grimness of the surroundings. 

As they got near, Hagrid, from his superior height, could see inside what revealed itself as a ring of bushes, and cursed.

"He's inside," he muttered.

Not able to see, Elrin was frantic and strained to see.

"What's he doing in there?" 

"He's lying in the middle – not movin'."   

She began to push her way past Hagrid towards the bushes when he swiftly grabbed her by her arm and flung her away.

"Don' yer touch 'em."

"Why not?" She cried, desperate to get to the figure inside. "It might scratch a bit, but.." 

"They're deadly. Them thorns'll poison you. Sorta like a drug. Make you see things funny like. Makes your mind go crazy," he said, twirling his finger in the air. 

"Do you think he's been poisoned?" She asked.

"I dunno," he said, scratching his head, "but I'd reckon if he had, he'd been crashin' around and he'd be covered in scratches. Just looks like he's stunned or summat." 

Sampeer continued to flap around, coming out to the two of them, his desperation evident. 

"Ok Professor," Hagrid said loudly, more for her benefit than for his, "we'll get yer out o' there in a jiffy," and he pulled his umbrella out of his voluminous coat. He hesitated for some seconds, until Elrin felt like Sampeer. 

"Hagrid," she cried, "this is no time to hesitate, you know it's necessary."

He nodded, and began to point it at the bushes. Just as the spiders arrived. 

Hagrid saw her look of horror and turned to see the advancing creatures.

"They won' harm you," he said exasperated, shaking his head. 

"They won't harm you, they will harm us. I know."

"Don' be daft."

The spiders bloated bodies and thick legs were beginning to close on them, shifting out of the trees, running along the ground in clusters, running hunched, clicking and snapping. 

"Remember what they nearly did to Harry and Ron in their second year? They just escaped with their lives," she argued, glad again for her reading habits, and then glanced at the open ground that looked as if it had become alive.

"Yeah, but yer with me", he replied persistently. 

"Sorry, I know what Aragog said, only you are exempt from being eaten."

"How do yer know tha'?" He asked, as if she were clairvoyant.

Dozens and dozens of glittering eyes were fixed on the two figures and they could almost hear the pulsing of ancient heartbeats. They were surrounded.

"I'll tell you later," she muttered.

"Can you get us, or me into the middle of the bushes?" 

"Yeah, I can. _Wingardium Leviosa_" he said to a large log that she had nearly fallen over on their way to the bushes. As it moved over the edge of the ring of bushes, he let it drop, and there was a pathway through.

"Elrin," he shouted as she shot forward, "be very careful – more 'specially the thorns. One false move…"

She hardly heard him, but was careful as she negotiated over the log through the roses. Close to, she could smell them: an over sickly, rotting, malicious smell, and she could sense the wild brooding anger that lived in them and their pull to throw yourself upon the thorns, then aggravating in you the desire to stampede through them, to snarl and to slash your way through thickets to find your most aggressive desires, to wallow in hatred and bitterness, to seek vile company and dredge all sorrows into the darkness beyond.

She fell onto the ground where Severus lay, corpse-like in the very middle. She realized they would be safe only for a short time, as the spiders could drop down on them both from above. 

_What are you doing here? What have they done to you?_

Quickly, she examined the prone figure. His lips were blue, and he had a waxen look about him as if he were lying in a tomb, wrapped in the black shroud of his cloak. As she felt for his pulse that was weak, she noticed the shimmering strangeness on the top part of his face that she had noticed at supper: crystal-like, crumbling encrustations across the bridge of his nose and around his eyes. She felt she should not touch it in case she unknowingly did some damage. 

"Hagrid," she shouted, "get us the hell out of here."

"Er," he said, "I'm not sure – how, at the momen'." 

She could not wait to get him home.

_Home. The first time she had used that word referring to her new abode._

"I don't like the look of this."

"Neither do I," he said. 

"No, I mean Severus," she said, "It doesn't look good. I'm not sure how much longer he can last."  The snapping and the clicking had reached a chorus now and she could hear Hagrid talking to them as he stood at the entrance of the bushes and she desperately hoped he could do something. She moved her hand over her lover's body to access the damage, but also to reassure herself. The contact gave her courage and her hands stopped shaking. 

"My darling," she whispered, though not expecting an answer from him, withdrawn into his unconscious by the look on his face into some inner pain, the lines from nose to mouth deep and sharp, his features bare through his pallor. "We've got to get you out of here mighty damned quick." 

"Hagrid," she called.

"Yeah?" Came the reply, the gamekeeper sounding ill at ease amidst what sounded like a louder babble of furtive rustling outside. "I think yer might be right 'bout the spiders."

_Well done, Hagrid. _

"Can you call the Centaurs or something?"

"Er, no. they won' come. It's not their business."

"They've done it before."

"With Harry? Yeah, he was an exception though."

"And Severus isn't?"

"I don' make their rules Elrin…."and stopped to say something to a very large agitated spider right in front of him.

"Could you summon up the Weasley's old car?"

"Sorry, that car has a mind-magic of it's own." 

"Can you Disapparate us out of here to the edge of the wood or somewhere close?"

He said nothing for a moment. 

"Sorry, I – um – was taken out o' school 'fore I learned it."

Gritting her teeth, she held Severus' clammy hand.

"Unicorns?" She suggested.

"Yeah, I can, but they'd not be much use in this situation."

"For heaven's sake Hagrid," she said, exasperated,  "have you got any ideas?"

He was obviously torn between talking to her and the spiders and was frantic to know what to do.

"Could you get a broomstick and take him out of here?"

"Er- there again, I – er – never learnt how. I can ride a motorbike," he said happily over his shoulder, "but it's at the mechanic's in pieces at Hogsmede."

Unkindly, she silently cursed Hagrid for his limited abilities. 

Impatiently, and at her wits end, she brushed some of the crystalline substance from off the face of the prone figure.

_Isn't the cavalry supposed to come in at this point? _

She looked around her, the roses close and vibrating with tension and malice, and the canopies of the trees shadowy above them, probably hiding the eight-legged predators. It was as she crouched there beside him that a terrible unease blew into her soul, like the breath she imagined would come from out of the mouths of spiders as they opened their jaws to devour them. 

_This isn't fair. How was she supposed to cope with this?_

She could feel cold sweat running down the centre of her back. _He will die, and she will have done nothing to prevent it and then she will die. All her life had been a waste. What was the point of it all? She couldn't do anything for him, or anyone. They're all crazy, these wizards: thinking they can do something against the Darkness, against Voldemort. He's too powerful, malevolent and the chaos he produces is so much stronger than the light. There is nothing anyone can do against it._

Putting her head in her hands, she rocked quietly on her heels.

_Her family made her like this – them and their world. But she had been wrong from the very beginning. Something was wrong with her, ill favoured, warped, not normal, unaligned, disjointed, strange. In her own world she was useless, here in this one she_ _was the same and everything had come to nothing after all. She had no wand to wave, no potion to fling at someone, no thunderbolt to hurl, no magic wings. _

She lay down by Severus' body, her head on his chest and pressed herself there. Hagrid began to worry, glancing more frequently over his shoulder at the silence from behind him. 

"Have you bin near them thorns?"

She heard him faintly and just as faintly answered. 

"No," she struggled to say. It was hard to speak. "Not touched." 

He cursed and planted his bulk more determinately at the entrance. 

It was as if she was joining her lover's silent world. His heartbeat gradually penetrated her own in a soft rhythm and as she looked up at his face she wanted to cry for the waste of it all. 

"Elrin, snap out o' it," cried Hagrid. "It's enchantment. Fight it. En-chant-ment," he spelt out. 

_What a long word.****_

She felt something at her shoulder.

_The spiders must be here._

 They must be ready to take their meal. She and Severus would be torn limb from limb and would become substance within the engorged stomachs of the spiders. Only it was not the spiders, but Sampeer, flapping in her vision. 

"Hello little beauty," she said, transfixed by him, mesmerized by his black little eyes

and then as she looked down again at her beloved, something fundamental shifted within her. The sounds of the forest, the clicking of the spiders, the breeze from the bat's wings and her lover's face suddenly flooded back to her like a slap in the face. 

She stood upright, shaky and pale, her cloak falling round her, giving the impression of a ghost rising from the dead.

_It's up to me then, since there appears to be no one else to the rescue._

With no real thought: almost instinctively, she raised her arms slowly out to the side. 

"Hagrid," she warned, "you may need to cover your ears."

"Eh?"

"If you feel pain," she repeated, "plug your ears – hard."

And then she began to sound and coming from the lowest place in her heart came a deep vibration and the roses around her began to quiver. 

"What yer doin' then?" He asked, twisting round, but she could not reply. He could feel a strangeness, but could not tell what it was, and he felt no hurt in his body or his mind. The familiar, resting on her shoulder, did not apparently feel it negatively either, but appeared to enjoy the sensation. She could feel the vibration shifting downward a little to her solar plexus and could feel her intent to subdue the spiders. Her vibration became louder and the bushes bent further away and the clicking suddenly stopped. She made it more powerful and Hagrid gasped as he could see the spiders crumbling like shadowy sacks before him, their legs collapsing at all angles.

"Are you killin' 'em?" He cried, afraid.

Still sounding, she shook her head at him. He looked worried, but held his ground and watched as they finally closed their glittering eyes. She gradually slowed and hoped that she did not have to continue, because that might very well kill them, and she did not want to do that, even if they were going to kill but above all she did not want to hurt Hagrid,. When she halted, they did not revive, but she knew they would live.

"Please don't worry," she said, slightly spaced out by the sound, "they are just put out of action. None of them has been harmed." 

Just as they surveyed what looked like a battlefield, the spiders having fallen from where they were in various places and positions, something bright emerged from beyond the trees into the clearing. It made her breathe in with delight at the glowing creature that stepped out with all the beauty of the world in its movements and its body. Pure white, it had a light that extended feet away from its coat and a rhythm of walking that spoke of music and colours that mortals never saw. The unicorn had a straight stubby horn on it's forehead and as it came over to them, she could smell the wonderful heady smell of horse, but with an extra sweetness that made her think of the fragrance of flowers. It nuzzled her and she stroked its' fine soft muzzle, immediately feeling that they would be safe. 

"Would you carry Severus?" She asked, and although she couldn't know whether it was assent or coincidence, it nodded fiercely, shaking its' long white mane.

She turned to the half giant. "Do you think it would?" 

"Well, it might. Trouble is – how?" 

She thought for a minute. "Would it take two of us?" 

"It might. I could carry him myself, but I need to have the crossbow at the ready."

"Do you think," she said, rubbing the unicorn's neck with her hand, which it obviously enjoyed, "that you could get us both up? If I go in front, I could hold his arms to keep him upright."

"All right," he said, peering anxiously at the still suspended spiders. "We'd better get moving." 

He helped her up onto the unicorn's back and as the creature did not seem to mind, he risked levitating Severus up behind her as a dead weight and she grasped his limp arms to stop him from titling sideways. His black cloak fell down starkly against the glowing whiteness of the unicorn and his head lolled against her shoulder, his hair flopping on her neck.

_My darling, stay with me._

Quickly, Hagrid made some bindings round their legs and waist to fuse them together. 

Surprisingly to him, the unicorn stepped out as he finished and made it's way down the path that they had come from originally, so he followed behind with the crossbow. Fang appeared from nowhere.

"Where 'ave you bin?" asked Hagrid. "Hidin' in the bushes. Can't blame the poor fellow I suppose."

At several points she became concerned that the spiders might follow and chase, especially as and there was nowhere to hide, but whenever that happened, she felt a gentle surge of feeling from the unicorn, almost like she had from Fawkes, a quiet assurance of well being. As she clung to her precious cargo, she could feel his breath on her neck and wondered if she had stopped his circulation from holding his arms tightly.

_Stay with me._

She repeated this like a mantra as they moved through the forest. Gradually, the fear and deadly lure within the forest diminished as they went. The journey back, like all journeys, seemed shorter than when going out, and they soon arrived at the edge of the forest. 

It had been her responsibility for not letting him fall as he was still totally unconscious, and so it was almost if he had given his trust to those around him to keep him safe and her heart opened even wider to him and when Hagrid released them from the bindings he had made, the wizard slumped more strongly against her, vulnerable and acquiescent, and she held him for a brief moment, unknown to him in his own interior shadows. 

It was like another enchantment, so close had she been to this unicorn that she was left with a kind of dreaming. Songs drifted and circled in her head as if the forest were the safest place in the world. After she had dismounted, and Hagrid had slid him off the unicorn and lain him on the ground, the unicorn had nodded its' head again, and as she thanked it, the half-giant said that she could if she wanted, take a few hairs out of it's mane, because he knew by his experience with them that it was being offered as a present. She was reluctant for the creature to leave, so enmeshed was she to its charms, despite the need that remained in the back of her mind to get Severus into the hospital wing.

"That's nice, though I can't imagine what I would do with them. Hagrid took a knife out of his great moleskin coat and gently extracted a few hairs and gave them to her, and as the long glowing coils of mane lay in her hands, she gazed at them.

 "They're' beautiful," she said and kissed the cheek of the unicorn, and she watched fascinated as it stepped gracefully back into the dark domain from where it came.

It was strange and fascinating to see the half-giant tenderly lay the irascible professor down on one of the beds in the ward and they both watched Poppy take over. On the other side of the bed, Elrin didn't know what to do, she only knew she had to keep Severus within touching distance, and would not be parted. She knew that she had to let the nurse do her work, but Poppy, as usual , saw another intruder and obstructer to her work and shooed them both out of her immediate way.  Hagrid clapped an enormous hand on Elrin's shoulder and gave her a half smile. 

"Thank you Hagrid," she said.

"He's in good hands now, yer know that," he said, "why don' yer get some rest?"

"There is no way I am going out of here," she said with a slight wooziness in her voice, which both Poppy and the gamekeeper detected. 

The unicorn's gifts were still in her eyes and her movements, despite her fear for Severus, and a part of her knew that if she were not hypnotized like this, she would be frantic, desperately fearful for him, so she understood that it was a mercy. The proximity to the unicorn had suffused both her and the wizard with some kind of healing energy, because she still pulsed with it and she had detected in him a lessening of the waxy look and blue lips as they came to their destination, but it had left her in a light-headed state.

Poppy, though her main concern was the potions master, gently pulled her to one side and noted Elrin's dilated pupils, and sat her down on the bed next to him.

"If you wish, you may stay here. You can see him if there are any dramatic changes. Just take your outer clothes off and lie down." 

"I don't want to lie down, Poppy."

"Listen," she said, low and serious, "I don't have time for this, Severus needs my attention now and if you don't do as I say, I will take you right out of here, so do as you are told."

Elrin blinked, and seeing from some deeper part of herself that it made sense, submitted to the nurse's demands and started to take her cloak and boots off, as Hagrid took his leave, unnoticed by Elrin.

"Good girl," said Poppy, who, released from the inconvenience of the healthy, bounded towards her critically ill patient. From her vantage point, Elrin watched the nurse dash backwards and forwards with medicines and poultices, waving her wand over him constantly, muttering and pouring potions down his throat. She pulled the curtains round while she stripped him, and although Elrin hated him not to be in sight, she knew that he was there and in good hands. Soon, the curtains were pulled back, and she strained to see how he was, which appeared to be little different. In fact he looked ashen against the pillows with his stark black hair. He had been tucked up in the healing womb of the nursing profession, dependant on ministrations that were tightly bound by both sheets and rules. She wished she could touch him, but found that she could not move from where she was, and was also fearful of reprisals by Madam Pomfrey, and eventually just lay watching him, his profile jutting out sharply from his face. Gradually, as the night wore on, Poppy slowed down what she was doing, and as she noticed the appeal in Elrin's eyes, took pity on her and came and spoke to her. 

"I do believe he may be over the worst." 

"What is it that is wrong with him? Has he been tortured?"

Poppy hesitated, then seeing the strength in Elrin, agreed that he had been tortured.

She hardly dared breathe and ask the question.

"How?" 

"Extensive _Crucio_."

"Anything else?" 

_As if that wasn't enough._

She was aware that someone could go crazy with that alone. 

"No, I don't think so, but he is very weak. In fact I haven't seen him so…".

She waited for the completion of the sentence that never came.

"Oh, I just remembered something I need to do." 

"What were you going to say?" She called as the nurse rushed off into her office.

"Sorry? Can't remember. Just keep your distance for the time being though. I know it's hard. I'll be back soon." 

_Mm._

And so the night wore on.

She remembered drifting off to sleep and unfathomable though it was, snatches of daylight and Poppy moving round the ward seeped into her consciousness now and again. When she awoke fully it was night again, and wondered if the intervening occurrences were illusions and that it must still be the night they came back from the forest, but there were cut flowers by her bedside, and cards too – although there were none by the next bed, its inhabitant silent as the grave, lit by a single levitated candle over the bedside locker. Getting out of bed and wrapping herself in the thin counterpane, she crept towards him, bare feet on the cool floorboards, her stomach chilled by his motionless figure. Her unicorn enchantment had left her clear headed but her aching heart now split open for him who lay so close. If she could have wrapped herself round him, she would have done, but she feared damaging him in some way, so she held back. Looking at the one forlorn candle, she remembered how this man had set about healing her with muttered counter-curses in her ear, arranging a glorious array of candles to drive away the darkness and then with his own body had made a canopy over her with signs and symbols in incense. He had even grown ferocious at Fawkes on her behalf and she only had to whisper and he was there at her side. 

Here there was no one to watch over him, to use their magic powers to care and heal. Poppy had done what she could, but all was silent and dark and the only fragrance that could be detected was floor polish. The fact that she had some flowers by her side and none by his, hurt her and she gently touched his arm over the covers and stroked it and immediately energy shot through from him to her like a minor thunderbolt. As she tentatively moved closer, she saw that his skin looked stretched and thin across his proud features. Leaning forward, a floorboard creaked under her foot and he jerked his head towards her, as two pits of darkness like that of the interior of the forest shot open and fixed themselves on her. Sharp to move and sharp to strike, she was forcibly reminded of a snake and she saw danger in that look, a defensive reptilian glare. She could faintly see the vestiges of what had been on his face and knew that what was happening was dangerous, could feel the pricking of her skin as if she were facing the most deadly serpent on the planet. It was as if she had been hit with something at full force, and as her brain synapses refused to jump and her blood no longer circulated. It was as if an earthquake had split her open and she was plummeting through a cold, wide chasm, into the maws of death.

_What under all the stars of heaven had they done to him?_

She did not move either forward or back, but remained motionless, as did he. Some inner sense, some inner prompting, forced her mouth open, and she said in a clear voice that she did not recognize or know where it came from, "You are not going to deny me." Her heartbeat had begun to thrum in her ears and slowly, very, very slowly, keeping her eyes onto his, reached a hand out over his body above his chest and slowly, very gently as he, moving nothing and exhibiting no emotion, watched as she gradually brought the flat of her hand down to almost touch him over his heart. There it steadied as she felt his energy, and then down to touch and immediately he breathed out as if he had been released, and she knew that the danger was over. His head flopped over to the side and his features became mobile and the man she knew.

"My darling," she whispered, wanting to hold him and was so many inches away from doing so, but still held herself on the edge since there was still something not quite right. 

He suddenly tore at the upper part of his face, rubbing and scratching.

"Oh, please don't," she urged, wanting to cry out, but kept her voice low in case the nurse heard her and sent her away from him.

"I have to remove it," he croaked angrily.

"What is it?" She asked. "What is that strangeness on your face?"

"The mask, the mask," he said roughly, twisting round in his efforts to get it off.

"It's a mask?" 

"Is there anything left?" he asked, but since he was not lifting his head up and partly shielding his face, she could not see. He was avoiding her gaze, but at the same time, wanted her assurance.

"I can see nothing," she said sharply, "especially if you will not let me see," and she seized the candle and with one hand, thrust it towards him. Slowly, reluctantly, he offered his face for inspection, his eyes glowering, searching hers for the truth.

"If you see anything, do not touch it," he warned abruptly.

"It's all gone. I can see no trace of it now, even if I move the light about. Not one tiny spec. It would reflect if there were."

He took a deep breath.

"It's a Death Eater Mask, I presume," she stated, in an unemotional voice, holding herself steady.

"The mask is not something separate you put on," he explained, a little less angrily. "It's not a costume, it's a transformation of part of one's face. It is the nature you take on," or and he paused grimly, "is revealed. It's a badge of slavery – to cruelty, to supremacy, to insanity."

Despite her reassurances, he still felt around with his splayed fingers, afraid of it's revelation to her, so she leant over him with the candlelight catching her quiet face and hair, and softly kissed the warm damp flesh around his eyes, his brow and over the bridge of his high nose and then as she stood, he looked up at her in a kind of painful awe. For the first time she had known him, weak though he was, he pulled her to himself, wrapped his stiff arms around her waist, pressed his face to her smooth belly and groaned aloud. As she leant over and covered him, she stroked his hair, rocking slightly and whispered to him until he gradually slipped down, releasing his grip, to fall asleep.


	18. this bed thy centre, these walls thy sph...

                                                               This bed thy centre, these walls thy sphere 

John Donne

Chapter eighteen

In the morning, Poppy opened the curtains to the ward and the normally austere nurse smiled to herself as the first thing she saw was two figures entwined in the bed. The first thing that Elrin saw was Severus' face locked in sleep. Both of her arms were wrapped gently around him and as one of his arms was crushed under her, she tried to shift to make him comfortable and in doing so, woke him with a start and she plunged straight into the murky depths of his gaze. 

 "How are you feeling?" she whispered, taking in every inch of his face, noting purple bruises underneath bloodshot eyes.

"I'm not sure yet. I'll find out when I move. Immobilized as I am with you enveloped around me," he grumbled.

"You want me to move?" she asked dismayed, about to untangle herself.

"No, he replied quickly holding her tight, "not at this minute," and continued to contribute his full share of the entanglement of their bodies. Despite the pain that he was experiencing from deep inside and from what felt to be every single one of his muscles, he lay motionless in the bed. Soon the sound of rain drummed against the windows, which made the ward darker and darker and in time they both began to soak up the warm safety of their existence and relaxed into not having to be anywhere or do anything for at least a while. Poppy was leaving them alone, but they suspected that it would not be long before she marched out of her office and demanded that they be split into separate beds for public decency. They noticed, however, that for the sake of that decency, she had already arranged the curtains to shield them, and especially their young public from their horizontal embrace. However, his body did not let him lie in peace for long: spasms of pain burned through him making his limbs and torso rigid with tension. Tentatively, almost with embarrassment, he asked if she would massage him, particularly on his legs and arms. Gently she rubbed his bruised limbs in slow deep movements, the knots in his muscles angry and solid. His body gradually began to surrender a little to the pressure of her hands and moaned quietly into her side.

"Where was I found?" he asked in between slow breaths.

"In the Forest." She didn't want him to mention too much about the incident. There was a guilty disturbance in her at the thought that there was a point where she had given up on him, on herself, on everything. 

"Ah, Hagrid," he sighed. "What would we do without him? Did he pick me up in the usual place?"

"I don't know. You were deep in."

"Oh," he said, puzzled, "how did he find me?"

"We just followed Sampeer – he came and found us."

"We? You went with Hagrid?" He looked alarmed and she stopped her work on one of his exposed arms, the one with the Mark on it, carefully avoiding the bleeding black image amongst the soft hairs of his arms. 

"Well, yes."

Severus rolled his eyes and glowered at her.

"Have you _no_ sense of safety? It was a full moon, and just the two of you – in the heart of the most perilous forest in this country?"

"We were quite safe. A unicorn brought us back here," she said, in the faint hope of ameliorating this apparent irresponsibility, ignoring the roses and the hungry spiders. _It was safe on the back of the unicorn._

Shaking his head at her naiveté, he seemed disgusted, but let her carry on.

Fractious, he automatically rubbed his face and she pulled his hand down.

"There is nothing there," she stated firmly.

His eyes shifted away from hers and said nothing and she had the feeling that he would have liked to have been somewhere else at that moment.

"Do all the Death Eaters have them?" she asked, ignoring his unwillingness to talk about it.

"Yes," he replied tetchily. 

"Do you," she continued, determined to clear this in her mind, "become as _they are_," she emphasized, "with that – mask?" He paused and the longer he paused, the higher grew her dread and her inner plea for a negative response.

"No," he said slowly, "but – I – am more _aligned_ with them."

_What was that supposed to mean?_

"What's the difference?"

He was finding it difficult to talk about it with her so close, was aware of the scent of and the softness of her body and the steady look on her face and would have liked to have escaped the interrogation, but as he looked at the mix of trust and wariness in her eyes, he explained, "The former – leaves me my judgement and my freewill: leaves me with my soul intact, unfortunately, it still encompasses me so that I can feel my own darkness magnified in them. Albus and I made various spells so that it does not rule me." 

His openness to her moved her, but there was an important detail that she needed to clear up. 

"It – didn't seem so last night. I saw that you were in the grip of it. Just as you came to consciousness, you might easily have killed me," she stated without a trace of recrimination, just commenting on an observable fact. Looking pained, he studied the rain outside.

"I remember. Faintly. That was…" and then realized what he was going to say. He did not want to mention to her what had happened. It was bad enough with her knowing about the mask. His voice became harder. "I don't wish to speak of it." She knew that it would be difficult for someone to continue to be annoyed while lying in someone's arms and instinctively sought out the trouble in his mind which echoed the hurt and unyielding muscles in his body.

As she observed his aggressive defence she stubbornly prompted him: "Because…?" Then understood what he was avoiding talking about. 

"Because – you had been tortured with _Crucio_?" 

He stared back at her and she stated, "Poppy told me. I presumed that you had been tortured in some way, but I wasn't sure how. Did you think I believed you had fallen down stairs?"

"No," he sneered, "But the use of _Crucio_ is quite – extreme. Even Voldemort does not use it too often.  I was – in survival mode while I was weakened from the _Crucio_. The mask was too strong for me at that point," he said bitterly and held her face with one hand and scowled at her closely.  "You must _never, ever_ be around me while I am recovering." 

"I took care of myself," she replied, coolly, but was secretly warmed by his concern. In turn, the depth of her loyalty, her strength, and her cherishing astounded him and he suddenly and completely thawed, despite his habitual tendency to rigidity**.**

"I – am - so sorry, Elrin," he said, overcome, and he hugged her tight, tight enough to make her wince, but she did not make a sound or a movement as it must have cost him much pain. Roughly he clutched a large handful of her hair, then pressed his face to it as if imploring the universe for the answer to the mystery of life and whispered close against her ear, "How can someone be so precious to me?" 

She sank into his wild confusion and could feel his other hand flex and fist in frustration on her back. Lying like that for a while, breathing together, she thought of a medicine to might help take his mind off his present state. 

"We - could - do some translating," she suggested and then watched the tension ease from his face as if something deep inside him had been holding on for dear life. He sighed with relief and in gratitude, kissed her on the nose gently and to her, it was as if someone had given her the world. A sudden thought came to him.

"You don't imagine that I …have an ulterior motive with you…?"

"No," she whispered confidently, " I don't."

He rested his head back on the pillow and thankfully closed his eyes and some minutes passed before he spoke again. 

"Do you realize," he said cautiously, "that the parchments were given to me by my mother?"

She was all attention and the compliment he was paying her did not pass her by. 

"When was this?" she asked. He opened his eyes in an unreadable face. 

"When I was nearly 11. Just before I came here. She was murdered defending them.

She watched him as he spoke.

"She lay there on the carpet and made me recite a part of it until I knew it off by heart." 

_She died in front of him? It was a masterstroke to give him something to do. She must have been very special. What a burden for a child to carry._

She recited slowly frowning slightly, _" __I am__the Snake that giveth Knowledge & Delight & Bright Glory_, _Stirring the hearts of men with drunkenness.__"_"

Then he continued where she stopped.

"_And while tending the creation of the world, reveal that the pain of division is as nothing, and the joy of dissolution all. _

_Be thou my secret centre, my heart & my tongue! O splendrous serpent! They are as upon the earth; I am Heaven."_

"It's so beautiful," she murmured as he finished and the echo of something came into her mind. Perhaps she would mention it later. To have lost his mother, in such circumstances and at his age, just before going away to school….She stroked his hair quietly, smoothly, just like his mother might have done. He closed his eyes again and she could feel emotion sweeping through him, although he lay still. He smiled crookedly "Though she would never have done that," he murmured, his voice deep. "We were not a 'touching' family. Too traditional. Too _respected_. Discipline was everything."

"But she loved you."

"I can only presume so. I was not privy to her heart."

"But you could feel it."

He grunted what she presumed was assent, and he did not object to her continuing to stroke him.

It took him only another day to get out of Poppy's clutches which was apparently a record and he refused to walk with a stick that his body, still twisted and inflexible, really needed. However, by leaning on Elrin he made the painful journey to his rooms. She could hear his jagged breath as he started to climb the stairs, but he did not complain or utter a sound. He refused to burden others with his pain, but he was frustrated at his weak condition.  Poppy had looked disgusted at his departure, but recognized wasted breath when she saw his retreating back. Elrin managed to give her a smile and a little wave as they went out of the door. Maybe it was too soon, she thought, but privately, she was glad, as she wanted to be alone with him. During the time they had both been in the ward, school had closed for the Easter Holidays, so there were no students around to see him labour in order to retreat to his lair to lick his wounds. This time though, unlike countless others, he had someone with him, and even when in pain, was aware of her every step with his, who allowed him to press on her shoulder with his hand and who said nothing as they moved slowly through the empty corridors. 

She was glad to be back in his spacious and elegant rooms and for the first time, as she helped him into one of the chairs by the unlit fireside, noticed the grandeur of the view from the huge windows where a large part of the lake could be seen. When she had been there before, the wide brocade curtains had been closed.

_How they had lain on the rug; how he had collected her tears for his potions._

As it was a sunny day, the light glittered on the surface of the lake, its' secrets maintained in the shadowy waters that did not reflect the trees and the blue mountains behind it, even though it was now Spring. 

She glanced around at the range of heavy books massed around the room with its air of steady peacefulness and wondered about all the years he had spent here, alone, in his own company, a close satellite within the school; part of it, yet not. An individual who had a nightmare background: a blemished history, who had cut himself off from well-intentioned company, both scathing in his treatment of students and aloof from his colleagues. Shut away in here she could understand how. It was like an eyrie for a threatened species of bird, a black-eyed raptor, uncomfortable and surly if someone was close: threatening if approached.  She was silent, staring again out at the scene before her and wondered about how she came to be there: how lucky she was and considered all the events that had happened since she came. Circular thought then led onto the chill of what might happen in the future: how easily her happiness could be taken away.

_Loving someone made you so vulnerable._

The source of most of her happiness watched her for a while and then called her name and she came out of her reverie.

"Mm?" For a second or two, she looked at him puzzled, observing how tired and pale he looked. Underneath however, there was an unspoken eagerness about him and then she remembered her promise. She thought he might have rested, but that was a forlorn hope, and sympathized with Poppy. She didn't think he liked to be seen as he was: physically powerless and dependant, but the power of his presence, and his intangible qualities were considerably intact. His voice was soft, but his force of spirit loud and she responded as only she knew how and went to his side.

"Of course," she said, friction automatically activated in her body the moment she came within feet of him. "Where are they? In the office?" 

He nodded to a corner of the room. Piles of scrolls lay efficiently wrapped with black ribbon on top of a wide cabinet, "In the cabinet, under the first year reports," he said.

"In such an ordinary place?" she asked in surprise.

"Anyone," he sneered, "would expect secret hiding places and strong magic and would waste their time deciphering wards. They wouldn't think to look in there amongst grubby potion essays."

It was an odd feeling shifting from their usual cosy place in his office to do the translating in his rooms, though it was so tranquil there in his study cum drawing room with the two easy chairs and the sun reaching in on both of them. Subsequently she began to settle down, a parchment in her lap as always and he with his quill and notebook in hand. As usual, he did not push her, but she observed the mix of willpower and excitement hidden behind his stony face as he re-read some of his old notes. She wanted to lean over and kiss him, already missing the comfort of his body, but decided to leave that for later. She already held his heart in her hands.

It took her a while to concentrate. She remembered the overwhelming tension that she used to feel with him so close in the office and with it the unspoken and hidden question within her of whether there could be anything between them, of whether he wanted her. The difference between then and now was that there was no longer the fear and pain of his rejection and she could relax. To her surprise, being homeless in the true sense for so long, his inner sanctum felt like home. With this as her kick-start, she opened quickly to the inner sound and soon opened her mouth as it ascended out of her in a pure dual note.

He pretended to read his notes while she sounded, but his eyes kept their vigilance. The words seemed to come out of her long and slow, her mind held in abeyance while the melodious sound moved stealthily out her mouth.

_The Sun, Strength & Light; these are the Star and the Snake."_

There is a text missing here, she said slowly, carefully, the parchment has a hole in it, but I am to understand this: 

_"There is the flame that burns in every heart of man, and in the core of every star yet therefore is this knowledge: the knowledge of life and death." _

She could hear him scratching out his notes. It seemed to come from a very long way away. And then more moved into her mind:

_"For one kiss wilt thou then be willing to give all, _

_But to him is the winged secret flame, and to her the stooping starlight._

_Put on the wings, and arouse the coiled splendour within you: come unto me!"_

She wanted to talk to him and coming back to him, she was about to say something, when he grunted at her.

"Wait," he said irritably, attempting to keep up, and then looked up, "Well?"

He sounded as if he was back in the schoolroom and it distracted her mind. The thought had appeared complete and rational in her mind, but confronted by his intellectual rationality, crumbled into dust at his gaze. He knew he had broken some delicate reflection by his impatience, but his eagerness to resume where they had left off before made him ignore it. They continued until they had collected the names and amounts of herbs and bizarre items to make the next potion. Couched in that poetic language, it took them a while to get it out on parchment and he studied it with passion, asking for books and more notebooks. 

They spent some time deciphering the next potion, and every time they worked on it, Elrin felt uncomfortable, in that she felt that they should be doing what Fawkes had suggested – retracing their footsteps. However, Severus argued for them to forge ahead and then re-examine it all when they had completed the ten potions that were mentioned in the parchments, and in the end he had won. Report writing and preparing lessons through the day and studying his notes at night, it seemed as if the devil were after him, and since his return from Voldemort, not surprising. In her turn she helped him with the potions as much as she could and at other times poured over some extremely useful and excellent books on Phoenix myths and culture from his own collection. So the weeks passed, sifting through the knowledge, dissecting the text, ruminating on it. Physically, he was still damaged and weak and tired easily and although they had their moments of closeness and she shared his bed she gradually became aware of something on his mind and how he kept it closely guarded within his strictly buttoned chest despite their physical proximity.

It was just before the students returned for the summer term, when she came across the Remembral in his office. She was idly poking around in an assortment of objects on a small corner table, when it caught her eye, the deep pink cloud within the sphere calling to her. Picking it up, she moved it this way and that, as if it could sift through all her experiences within her memory.

"Severus, she called, whose is this?"

Distracted, working at his desk, he snapped, "I – oh, that belongs to that Jeremy Honeycutt. I confiscated it from him since he was busy boiling it in his cauldron and then he had the audacity to claim he had forgotten his homework because I had taken it from him. Pathetic excuse as usual. Anything to duck out of self responsibility."

"Can it affect anyone?"

"Certainly." He was irritated at being disturbed from the reports but was politely containing himself. "Would you mind if I …?" He asked sardonically tilting his head, and went back to writing steadily in his journal. 

At first he had asked her to stay with him in his rooms because he was weak and he seemed to assume that she would continue to stay there, but before long, she began to feel unsure if she was invading his space and his studies. It was a haven, a place of retreat and stimulation and she loved it, but she had never had such luxury, and it seemed altogether too wonderful, too subtly splendid for her humble upbringing. She was having doubts about her worthiness in this environment, as if she deserved to be starved of good books, quality craftsmanship, beautiful furnishings, the magic of music and a studious atmosphere.

"I think it would be a good idea if I returned to my rooms," she said suddenly to him as he was picking out some particularly good specimens ofbeetle livers from a jar. He had begun to make the next potion, and as he was still in a certain amount of pain, was doing it slowly and carefully. 

He looked up with a face that was unreadable. "Oh. Do you not like it here?"  The tension between them was stretched. She could feel the pull of it from her midriff. 

"Of course I do, it's beautiful; it's a wonderful place." 

_Why did he not say_ '_Stay, I love you'?_

"But you want to go back to your own rooms?" his voice was level and careful._ Perhaps he wanted her to go. She had outstayed her welcome. His eyrie was not big enough for two._

"Well, I feel it might be beneficial to you. I could visit." 

_The thought of her neglected room, abandoned often in the past weeks._

He turned back to his cauldron, stirring thoughtfully, hair limp, his face twisted away.

"If you would prefer that," he said noncommittally. 

_Didn't he know that she wanted to stay?_

For some unknown reason she found that while he had fallen asleep quickly at night, she was, in the face of the darkness and the quiet and her own spinning insecurities, sinking into a wilderness of doubts and longings, even with his deep breathing in her ear and warmth lying beside her. 

_Perhaps he had tired of her already. Perhaps being with her, she would become as annoying as the colleagues that he shrank from. And it wouldn't be because of leaving the toothpaste top off…_

 "Very well," he continued without looking at her.

She felt sick, as if she were walking away from him. She wanted to go to him and insinuate her arms around his still tense body, but it was almost as if she had declared her distance from him, that she no longer had any right to give or receive his affection. She then had to collect all her personal items, a few clothes: nothing that would have constituted a full arm's worth. It was as she was going towards the office door that she remembered the original potion that he had made for Remus, and had no idea why she took a slight detour just to look at it. It had been pushed to the back of some jars out of the way in disgrace and as she revealed it with one hand, gasped aloud so that his head jerked up to attention.

"Severus – that potion – you know, the one – for Remus – you won't believe what has happened to it."

For all his speed of initial responsiveness, he slowly and carefully looked at her, the desk light illuminating his wariness.

"What is there about it?" 

She could hear the hidden anger in his voice, but continued, "It's changed."

"Impossible," he muttered, looking back down to his marking. The third years were slacking as usual. How they expected to pass their end of year exams was a mystery to him. 

She peered at the label in case she had made a mistake. It was clear. He did not make those kinds of mistakes. 

"It's the correct one. It was green wasn't it?" She knew it was. "Well, it's a sort of light blue now."

This had him up from his chair in an instant, and he seized upon it, though still expecting her to have mistaken the jar. Clearly though, it was not a mistake. 

"This is not possible," he said, completely overwhelmed and examined the potion in the light. "To be fully functioning," he explained, "it needs to be clear, although this blue colour is definitely a step in the right direction."

"Maybe it has just needed time," she said, pleased for him, but absorbed with her departure.

"It would be extraordinary with this kind of mixture. I would have said impossible."

Hope appeared to rekindle his spirits, and excitedly, he got out his original notes.  So distracted was he, that she didn't think that he would notice her exit. 

Slowly she moved out of his office, down the steps and along the corridor, the evening light from the low rays of the sun through the stained glass windows catching in her eyes, tears beginning to flow down them as her steps echoed in the quietness. As she reached the end, and was about to turn down another, she heard hurried footsteps behind from where she had come and turned to see him approaching her way. She continued, assuming he was going somewhere urgently, but her heart leapt all the same as she could hear him come closer. When he caught up with her, his legs stiff and awkward, sending his robes out behind him, she could hear him panting as he came level with her, and saw that his white face was faintly flushed.

"Elrin…" he said, then halted, uncertain what to do. 

She felt the strength and the confusion in him as a heady mix as she looked back towards him.

"Do you really want to go back?" he asked in a distant tone, but the hastening and the characteristic tell tale movements of his hands betrayed his emotions.

She hesitated, staring at the floor. "No."

"Then …stay." He could rarely remove the sarcasm from his voice, but here he was achieving a high degree of sincerity for him: she would have given him seven out of ten for this. He seemed more angry with himself than her.

She hesitated. "I do not want to be in your way. I do not want to…. to become an irritant to you."

"An irritant?" he almost shouted.  "By hell's door…you…calm me…you give me.….you give me…..something I have never had….. ever……..never even dreamt of ……..being content."

"You are not content," she said, straight out. "There is something…."

"What?" he winced and snapped at the same time.

"I don't know. I can feel it." Something in her was afraid to go there: if he clutched a fear so deep that was some fear specific to them both, she did not want to open it, so she deflected the worry. "You have been solitary in your beautiful private place for so long…I fear to disturb both you and it."

Fighting for his secret needs, he had no wand, no spells, no incantations, only himself. He looked as though he feared that it would not be enough. He struggled to speak. 

"Be, with me…..I …..want you," he asked, making it sound like a menacing invitation.

"Do you?" she asked, still disbelieving, surprised at his passion, almost reassured by his annoyance.

"You know what I think of you."

"Tell me," she replied.

"You are my life," he said softly, silkily, bending close so that only she could hear. One never knew what walls, what pictures, what creatures hanging upside down in rafters could hear in this building. He continued to growl laboriously, "I am not accomplished at this….."

_Masterly understatement. However, she thought he was doing pretty well considering._

 "I was certain that you would want to leave…" he continued…"I do not understand how you could…..endure to be with …." And so she let him struggle with his unfinished sentences and allowed him to take all her worldly goods back out of her arms. As there were no students about to hear their potions master become so inarticulate, she took full advantage of their absence, and held her hand to his cheek, stroking it, half smiling at his look of complete mystification at how life had a habit of turning over one's life despite one's best endeavours. 

"There is something I would like to show you," he said, a dark light springing up in his eyes. "Now is the time. If we return your belongings, I will take you now, we must hurry."

At last, when she was beginning to run out of breath, when he had routed them through what seemed like the entire bowels of the castle, wound through countless corridors and up numerous winding stairs in an erratically disorientated journey, full of secret entrances and disguised corridors, when, just as she felt that they must be quite high in the castle in a disused and broken part of it, they came to a tall double set of doors. They were set high above steps and were so battered that the ancient carvings upon them were a mere trace of themselves, their mythological symbols no longer decipherable. Both of them sat down on the steps before the doors, he totally exhausted, even to the extent that she began to worry about his condition. When he had recovered sufficiently to get up, he removed what appeared to be many complicated wards. The wood of the doors still held good although they complained on their hinges as he pushed inside into the blackness. The air that greeted her told her that it was not used very often but it held an intangible air that she did not directly recognize, yet spoke of some primordial familiarity to her inner senses and as she entered. The place pulsed with the kind of magic that made her think of the Slytherin Common room and had a stillness that held an invisible power that she could sense, though not see. The air sparked and danced around them with high voltage currents, the hair on her body shocked by the crackling in the air. It appeared to seek her out and examine her, like a being whose home was being entered, and she an invader. Slightly intimidated, she glanced at Severus for reassurance, but he gave none, merely stepped stiffly aside and looked slyly out of the corner of his eyes while removing his robe, placing it at the entrance and sealing the doors behind them with wards. This site may have peaked in a distant age, but, as she touched the nearest wall to caress it's ancient stone, she jumped as she could feel it breathing, slow and deep under her hand. If she stayed still long enough, she could see it moving very gently, pulsing and weaving and when she lay her head against it, could hear an undistinguishable murmur that made her shiver, not with fear, but with some ancient memory.

He lit some flames in the sconces that immediately illuminated the dark beauty of the interior as a ruin of a huge chamber, but no ordinary ruin. From the high dome, it spread itself out in a circular shape down to broken slabs of lettered stones below on the floor while fragments of paintings clung to the walls, a last ditch attempt to remain there before they fell off. Scratched gold leaf and faded colours which had once been rich and vibrant spoke of a powerful time; its' wreckage revealing more about its' splendour than when it had been fresh. The boldest element that was noticeable there, was a wide path created in a serpentinian shape which crossed the whole of the floor and snaked up the wall at the other end of the interior, it's head climbing up to meet a huge pair of wings that had a glow about them. These wings reached out and bent down in protection and she noticed that in the very centre was a star, possibly a cut-out in the roof to let in light. Both the star and the wings called out to her in some unseen way. 

She stooped down to touch the path, and multicoloured glass glimmered strangely. Some pieces were damaged and lost, but the overall pattern was there and she glided her hand over it. 

"Beautiful glass," she murmured.

"Glass?" He sneered. "Those are tsavorite with a mixture of nephrite, green sapphires and green rubies. All precious jewels."

Surprised, she looked again at the bejewelled path and marvelled at such glittering extravagance. While she examined them, he wandered up the path towards the head of the snake and the wings above it and stood for a while. 

It was while she was examining the path that she felt something shift and in half a heartbeat noticed two things, a stream of light pouring through the star shape and Severus shouting at her. Stunned, she hesitated, not understanding what was going on, and watched in slow motion as he clumsily rushed towards her and could then hear what he was indicating with his arms.

"Get off the path," he screamed, and she began to move, so slow, so fractionally it seemed. She was thrown clear as he slid and collided against her and he fell onto the path. Looking back from her place on the stone floor, she could see the snake-path undulating slightly, but what alarmed her most was the lightning force that she could see dancing along the length of it, ripping through his body.

Horrified, she leapt up and got as close as she could without touching the path, and stood aghast, wondering if she could reach out to him. Within the flickering currents he could see her and cried out again, managing to shout out briefly two words.

"Don't…… Safe."

It didn't look safe as he was twisted and bent with the force of it, green light wrapping itself around his body. Were it not for his words, she would have grabbed him and dragged him off, but restraining herself with difficulty, she remained until it had ceased its activity and gradually he came to himself and began to stand upright. To her surprise, he was not wounded, but on the contrary, there was a vigorousness about his body now, as if he had fully recovered from his wounds, and he was moving slowly and determinedly towards her.

_He was obviously well enough now. There was no mistaking that supple grace, that predatory movement, that vigour._

Not being sure what had happened as he had a different look on his face – one she was familiar with, but which was prior to their recent closeness and she began to wonder if it was wise for her to hang around. Instinctively, she looked for his mask, fearful of its return, but there was no sign of it. 

She moved away from him uneasily, but he continued to advance on her and they moved together until he got her back onto the serpent pathway and she could sense it lifting up behind her – making a high slope that he was trapping her against. She could have dodged to the side, but her eyes were held on him as they sparked and shone with an energy that held her in his orbit.  She knew what he wanted, what he was about to do. They hadn't had sex since his return from the Forbidden Forest and he looked very, very hungry. She glanced around apprehensively. It didn't seem likely that anyone would find them there, but she was not sure about the disposition of the wizard standing in front of her after that voltage from the serpent and as if to echo the doubt and confusion of her thoughts, a storm began outside. She could hear rolling thunder as it became suddenly darker, and the thrashing of the rain on the roof above as it began. The dome was magicked, like the Great Hall, to reflect the outside. Inside, the flames in the sconces immediately became brighter: light falling on the two figures in sharp relief and shadows spreading out on the floor beside them.

"Disrobium," he muttered, and all her clothes disappeared, leaving her completely naked and he quietly appraised her from head to foot.  However, his clothes remained on him and he as she stretched out a hand to remove some of them, he put up a hand to prevent her. 

"How come you get to keep your clothes on?" She protested, aware of the tilting hardness of her nipples and the vulnerability of her state.

He grinned unpleasantly. "Master of the Serpents' privilege." Then waited. "I see you do not fall into my arms Madam…" 

"Severus, I don't think we should be doing this. This is not right. You are…"

"Transformed?" He mocked. "You liked me weak and defenceless, a hobbling enfeebled wreck?"

"You were never that," she countered angrily. "I - don't know what has happened to you."

He loomed over her, dark and hungry like the shadows around them.

"You fear," he said, silky smooth, tracing his finger across her throat while she held her breath. "What do you fear?"

"That you are not the person I knew a few minutes ago."

"I am the same – recharged."

"You may say so, but I see what I see, I hear what I hear."

"And I make you uncomfortable," he said slowly, ignoring her discomfort.

She swallowed discreetly. 

_Had he disappeared – been malformed into something dangerous or was he just transformed?_

 "Lie against that behind you," he said abruptly, brooking no delay, moving so that he stood over her. At first the path felt cold on her back, but then she noticed that it vibrated in small waves like the muscles in a real snake and it calmed her, seduced her into its' nature and she felt its' hardness and its' chill no longer, although the fact that she was butt-naked and he was standing there smug in his clothes, did not lend itself to her ease and instant delight.

"If – I – kneel before you, like – this.." he said as he knelt down with a slow dignity on one knee, close, so that his bent head was close to her belly. It was a supplicatory move, not a mockery. When she continued in silence and confusion, he stood up again, and between the lowering of himself and his rising, she felt her body betraying her with the penetrating force of his psyche. 

"Do you want me now? It is you that decides, not I," he said.

His previous remarks had been ambiguous and his stance unambiguous, but his reference to her freedom to choose reassured a part of her mind. She missed his defencelessness and the closeness they had achieved, but she had to admit, if only to herself, that this new strength, this seduction, was having it's affect on her and that it sent her back to when she first knew him – he all powerful and she helpless before him. Not a comfortable thought, but her breathing rate had increased and she had felt her hand tentatively stretch out towards him and clutch his jacket and so pulled him towards her. Sweating slightly with a damp sheen on her skin, she could feel the mix of coolness of the air on it as well as the heat from him brushing against her. He did not remove one item of his clothing, but remained buttoned into his frockcoat and she could feel the slight roughness of it as he bent to touch her on her nipples, on her stomach and on her arms, the fabric trailing its way over them after his hands, leaving her trembling. The touch of his hands was warm and firm, sliding over her form, over her thighs, her arms, her neck, exploring, touching nothing too sensitive at first, planting kiss upon kiss on her stomach and she began to relax into his movements and felt his body underneath the material, the flat of her hands massaging his chest, his back, pulling his hair, clutching at him, seeking him while he moved confidently and assuredly onto her breasts, circling maddeningly until her tender nipples stood pleading and she began to breath heavily, and wrap a leg round his and he smirked with pleasure at her growing discomfort. She was not sure of the threatening civility of his seduction and the obscure and possibly dangerous nature of the snake path she was lying on. Taking full advantage of her unsurety, he pressed forward with his hands, fondling her back and the ripeness of her bottom until she began to want him desperately and fought not to show it. He grinned even more ferociously, his eyes fixed on hers, daring her to flee or to succumb, she could not tell. Eventually, after she began to feel that she might start to have enough of his teasing, he reached into her and stopped at the warm entrance with his hand, waiting for her to indicate whether he could enter.

_Since when did he ask? Didn't he always just take what he wanted, as if he had a right to it?_

He had the power to push his fingers inside, yet still he paused, just touching the soft haven of her lips. She could feel the dangerous closeness, the crackling vibration of his body and his person, his mind looming over hers, his domination held momentarily in abeyance, balanced so that she could choose. It appeared to be an odd thing to do, but it opened her completely. She crumbled into his desire.She reached her mouth to his which was soft and welcoming, betraying the cool burning of his sexuality and he took that as an affirmative, and gently thrust his fingers inside and she closed her eyes, partly to shut out his intimidating presence and to feel the flooding desire in her body. To him, she was satisfactorily wet and his hooded eyes surveyed her flushed skin. 

"Open your legs," he commanded softly, voice throaty and low. She did as he desired, to be rewarded by him ducking down and inserting his tongue. She gasped with the intensity of it and clutched his head, his viper tongue knowing how to please her and she felt like climbing the walls by the time he had finished. 

"Please," she cried softly to him as he stood up again, high and oppressive in her space.

"Please what?" He smirked, deliberately licking his lips slowly in front of her while watching her hunger reveal itself.

_What did he want her to do? Beg?_

She could not speak, her mingled anger and desire was rising in her so strong that it blotted out her rationality. 

"Tell me what you want, my dear," he sneered annoyingly.

_Did he not control her bodily responses? Did he not have her soul already?_

"You want me to f*** you my dear?" He asked, maddeningly considering, his lip curled.

She glared at him.

Through his clothes, she could feel his solidity and she palmed and rubbed him distractedly and then whispered: "F*** me. No, f*** me forever."

Smiling with half his face, he calmly opened his trousers and with his hardness evident, brought it to her entrance and again waited. She could feel the smooth head touching her, the forward troops of a battalion of energy, waiting to storm her body, waiting to be welcomed into her darkness and rock it into submission. Still he waited and she opened her eyes wide in fury.

"Are you waiting for a written invitation?" She retorted.

"You have to ask me in," he said patiently. She took a deep breath.

"Severus, I want you to…" and he must have been on the very edge of his restraint, because before she had finished, he had plunged and she was filled with him. She could feel the snake path under her shift slightly. Turning her head to look, he snapped "Look at me – keep your eyes on me." And his eyes thrust into her soul just as his lower body pierced hers. This was his territory, his known world and she was a guest in it so she knew he would not suffer her harm, so she fixed her trust on him, held him as the drowning would to a raft as the path began to move as he slowly pumped in and out. Waves of delicious sensation filled both her groin and her heart, offering her body to him, he taking what he wanted, she accepting, he giving all he had, she enfolding him, he lost in her, she as the centre in which he hid, he increasing his aggressive movements, she opening further to receive them, he to fill her with him, she to take him whole into her, he to surrender to her. The snake was moving strongly now and knowing this, she fixed herself wholly to him, letting go her self-preservation, her pride, her anxiety and he filled her with his life force, his pain, his mystery, his fury, his loneliness, his dark delight. 

Together they went with the path as it sank down into darkness as if into subterranean waters, into oblivion, into death and she clung to him and wondered if they were going to die. She would, if she could have, clung to the mad glitter in his eyes as they sunk further down and could feel her nails gripping his shoulders and her life swept before her: her previous life of frustration and boredom and then being called by him. There must have been something rich in her that had answered his call: perhaps some part of her had called him, unconsciously. All this magic and pleasure and homecoming tore open in her all the joy she had withheld for so many years, all the potentiality she had stilled within for safety's sake and which now flooded her like a tide. Then as these two realities collided in her: mortality and dreams, the two of them began to rise together, the path lifting up and with Severus' face still before her as he studied the thoughts shimmering across her mind. Higher, the path rose until it was higher than the floor and then proceeded to go higher still, lifting its great back until they burst into the storm's environment high above where the chamber rattled with the thunderstorm outside, where it shook the foundations of reality, with the crashing of the lightning all around, absorbing its dangerous power. Shuddering with ferocious life energy as it coursed through their bodies, both gasping with the immensity of it, as if it could tear the world apart and put it back together again. Its reached such a pitch that she began to sound, low at first, and then he joined her with his deep base note, while hers rose high and the look on his face changed from complacent joy to awe as she swung them both into another stratosphere: her reality an accompaniment to his. As she lifting it into finer levels, into a deep sense of peace, his dark notes shifted gear into a different level to keep with her and like dancers, swung round in harmony, facing one another. He could then see that she began to throw out a radiance, an out-flowing of light in amongst the darkness, a central point rippling outward like a rose over him and the surrounding gloom. It had the power of his own power, but was different in substance, but he knew he craved it without having known it before and without knowing it had been absent from his essence. His soul shuddered with its' ecstasy which removed his exile from happiness, violated his agonies, his guilt and his anger into dissolution. It was then that they saw the wings outspread over them, giant sheltering wings whose centre was a bright light and she moved towards it naturally; lifting up to open to the wonder of it and he too moved towards it, his snake power finding its rest in the beauty of it, his body plunging into the light of it. And lo, there was beauty all around and it made him want to weep, not with sorrow but with sheer unadulterated joy, a stranger to his heart. At this peak they exploded with happiness, bliss spreading through them like fire, like a raging torrent - like a gentle breeze. She had wanted to climb that little bit higher, but at the last moment, could not  - she had reached her limit, her boundary of openness and a splinter of disappointment lodged in her mind, but the overwhelming emotion coursing through her body and her soul made up for it.

And then they sank into their own world from that somewhere else, the snake path gradually lowering until it became level with the floor, their sweating bodies exhausted, but their spirits full, entangled in each other, heart to heart, body to body, drained and filled to capacity. He was still in her and she wanted him to stay there forever and grasped his damp hair and his all too human body as if she could keep the sounds and the sights and the feelings that they had felt and witnessed forever, and not let go such fleeting moments. To express their love in words would have been a climb down from such heights, from such rapture, so they just came to gradually, basking in their togetherness, in their excursion into the depths of their own hearts and neither had realized how much could be experienced through that organ of the soul. He was still on top of her, and she adored the feeling of that dead weight, even as it was slightly uncomfortable and as he gently slid out of her, she cried out with the loss, fearful of going go back into their separate compartments, back into desire and fear, male and female, separate beings in the clumsiness and confusion of the everyday world.

"I am here," he said simply.

As the storm outside had ceased with their own turbulence, they listened to the silence of the huge chamber that seemed to be at peace, within its' shadows and in its walls and in themselves and they looked upon each other and knew each other.

After a while, lying there, she said, "I was just on the edge of something, as if I could have made just one more step…" and left unspoken what that would mean, as if all mysteries would have been exposed to her gaze. He shook his head in wonderment, stroking her cheek with his thumb, his other arm tenderly wrapped around her still naked one, his frockcoat spilling partially over her.

"Have you any idea of what we have just done?" His face shone as he spoke and she did not know what to say, but gazed at the deep mystery of him.

"We have reached something few people have, " he said, "what scholars for millennia have written about in earnest, deciphered and argued over. Tradition has talked about it and you took me up to its summit," and he kissed her on her face and her breasts. 

She said hesitantly, "It wasn't just the snake was it? There were the wings and the light."

"The star," he corrected. "A very ancient symbol. It goes back into the depths of time, into prehistory when the doors to other realities were more widely open. The snake and the star with the wings have always been together – at least in our history. I have always concentrated on the serpentine, having been led and fed by that force through my families' inheritance." 

"It's a fearsome and formidable one," she said. 

"It is, and I always believed that it was the only thing for me. I - never knew what the star with the wings were, except as intellectual concepts," and he took her hand and kissed its palm in devotion. "You brought something to the Serpent that I would never have dreamt of, except that it seemed the most natural, the completion of something – as if I had never missed it, but when it was there, knew it had been absent."

"This was where you called me, wasn't it?" She asked.

"Yes," he replied and gazed at her, not believing his luck, shocked that fortune had turned around and blessed, not cursed him, and was fearful that she might dissolve into nothingness before him.

"Sweetheart," she said, shifting slightly, "I'm beginning to get a little cold." 

"Oh," he said, disarmed, and with his wand Accio'd his robes and then wrapped her in them and she delighted in its smooth and warm texture full of his essence, as if he were wrapping his body around her. He tucked her in and she smiled at his concerned look.

"If someone so much as harms a hair of your head, I will kill them," he growled, still tucking her in unnecessarily. 

_That's my Severus._

Lifting herself up a little, she kissed him on the vertical furrow of his brow. With a sigh, he then straightened himself up and said regretfully, "We could do with returning for supper, otherwise Albus will be on our case." In an instant, he had returned her clothes with his wand, and put his robe on. They made their way down into the world they loved but with a union that had no equal, their auras bound like two halves, his dark light and her cool brightness hidden from everyday sight, but palpable to those who could see.


	19. love is the law, love under Will

Author's notes: 

Thank you so much for those that have reviewed - either old readers or new ones – you have no idea how cheering and helpful it is, unless you have your own fanfiction up, and I might put in a plea for those who don't - if they would be kind enough to do so. It needn't be much, or erudite. Just what you think. 

I have been calling part of her attire a bodice. I understand that the contemporary term is corset – so I've decided to change it.

                                        **Love is the law, law under Will**

Chapter nineteen

The dark shadowed, pungent smelling stables, with its sounds of chomping and stamping of horses in their stalls was an aphrodisiac to Elrin, and as she leant over a row of saddles on a wooden horse, towards Severus who was standing immediately on the other side, pulled him to her, while Dobby was saddling up their mounts. 

'The hayloft looks very inviting,' she said, whispering to him and he glanced in that direction. A long ladder was leaning up against a high loft above them, a sleeping cat at the top of it.

'When we return perhaps,' he replied just as quietly, a smug half smile flashing across his face, 'though I cannot deliver Serpent sex every time you know….'

'Any kind would be wonderful,' she countered, grinning indulgently, placing her hand on his row of frockcoat buttons and then thrust through the top of his hair so that it flopped back again, fascinated. He widened his eyes at her but bent and kissed her slowly and intently, and they both became absorbed, beginning to breathe shallowly.

'My darling,' he whispered, breaking away.

She swiftly took his hand and before he could stop her, had thrust it from top to bottom of her corset. She had once done that in front of students, and he had not forgotten the shock and the thrill of it. Mind you, she had not been herself at the time at least on this occasion, it was private. However, they had things to attend to.

'Concentrate, my darling, we are going for a ride.'

'Precisely my point,' she sniggered.

'Elrin!' he muttered distractedly, as Dobby emerged from a nearby stall who asked her,

'Would you like a hard bit or no bit at all?' 

She had to face away from him, close her eyes and reply without a tremor in her voice. 'A hard bit please.'

As Dobby led Aelfsidene outside for Severus, the sunshine hit the glossy black coat of the mount that eagerly stepped out into the courtyard. The house-elf looked tiny beside the huge creature, but although Aelfsidene was frisky, it took great care not to step on him, for below him those saucer shaped eyes had him under gentle control. 

'Thank you Dobby,' said Severus, who greeted his mount and gave the saddle an automatic polish with his gloved hands (though no reflection on Dobby, it was his custom – a rite of magical clearing) and then patted the huge rump in front of him. The wizard's black attire looked hot in the spring sunshine, as he was complete in dress as usual except for his robes and cloak.

'You will need to adjust your stirrups' he said to Elrin, who was already mounted. Fidelius was riding her yesterday, and indeed the stirrups were short enough for a jockey.

Removed from the control of Dobby, Aelfsidene suddenly became fractious and stepped aside from Severus' presence; black tail swishing in protest and eagerness. Elrin watched with delight as the wizard manoeuvred himself so quickly and efficiently to get the better of the horse, and mounted him with apparent effortlessness, adjusting the tails of his frockcoat for ease of riding. The horse accepted the weight and feel of him, but skittered in impatience into one of the old stone walls, hooves echoing in the close of the yard. 

In readiness for a prompt departure for at least an hour's ride on a beautiful day, she slid her boots into the adjusted stirrups and was about to urge her own mount out of the courtyard, when Dobby, who was standing happily in front of her below, widened his eyes in dismay. She thought he was looking at her at first, and wondered what was wrong, looking down at herself and her mount, then realized he was looking beyond her and swiftly glancing around, saw a familiar cloaked figure coming through the cobbled entrance. 

_Hell_

The familiar figure had a purposeful walk, though not particularly fast, but gave enough time for Severus to spot him too and wheel his horse round to face him. Severus, she could see, was not pleased, but smiled crookedly at the blonde haired wizard below. At least he could pretend it was the horse he was annoyed at. She however, did not have to pretend and glared at him as an angry rabbit to a cobra and with about as much effectiveness. 

'Elrin,' he nodded to her, a mock polite smile that she had seen before, and close up, far too close up in a mountain hideaway.

_He was part of that which had tortured her lover and left him for dead in the forest._

'Severus, my dear friend,' he drawled, sneering at her open dislike and contempt. The dear friend kept his seat firm as his mount bounced up and down and loudly pawed the cobbles, snort-spraying anyone within distance of her nostrils. Fortunately for Malfoy, and disappointing her, he avoided it by moving away in disgust, and then casually leaned forward and locked his snake-headed cane onto the bridle.

'I need to have a word with you,' he said, with as little disdain as he could within his voice. She supposed it to pass for friendly, but it had a hurried edge to it.

 'We are just going for a ride Lucius,' said Severus, unwilling to give up his only freedom, his only recreation, his precious riding. The only thing that he did not feel he had to do for duty – either in school or out of it.

'So I can see,' replied the school governor, his cane still holding the bridle as spittle came out of the champing bit, and he held his immaculate black cloak well away from it, distaste open on his face. 'What a good idea.'

_It must be important if he is willing to stand there in front of this black fractious bolder of energy and risk his clothes and his dignity._

Then there was silence, or comparative silence with her horse sighing irritably, the screeching of some birds in the trees beyond and Aelfsidene getting more maddened by the minute. Severus looked at her, and though she looked stony back at him, she knew what he was thinking. As Malfoy turned to look at her, his unpleasant grin widening, she could see Severus signal to her with his expression and hands. Angry, but in accordance with his wishes, she dismounted and handed the reins to Malfoy, careful not to let even his gloved hands touch hers.

'No thank you,' he sneered, as he returned the reins with contempt. 

'Dobby!' He shouted, knowing that the elf was in earshot. 'The grey. _Now_.'

'He is your servant no longer,' she returned, equally forcefully.

'Nevertheless,' he said, scanning her up and down, making her blood rise to her face, 'I will have the grey.' Severus, together with his horse unable to go anywhere without running Malfoy down, sat out there while she went inside with Minerva's horse and then watched Dobby hastily magicking tack onto the tall elegant grey – Galadriel -  that Dumbledore rode very occasionally. Habit has a custom of being obeyed regardless of the feelings of the practitioner, but he did not look a happy bunny, his ears slightly back.

'Grrrrr,' he said, while making sure the girth was tight enough. 

_I'd be tempted to let it remain slightly loose._

'Grrrr indeed,' she agreed.

He saw where her eyes were and grinned.

'Wouldn't I just like that,' he said, beginning to walk the magnificent grey out, the sound of its' slow hooves on the stone floor. 'But the horse might get the wrong end of his cane, or wand.' She nodded, but the image of Malfoy slipping hard into fresh manure below was a cheering thought. 

When both the blonde and the black haired wizard were ready, they clattered out into the sunny day, which seemed darker than it had been before. 

_What mischief was he up to? Why did he always come trotting to Severus? _

Although she knew the answer already, knew Malfoy was a weak man, and Severus strong, they had a cultural lineage in common, a history together and a common knowledge of the working of Voldemort's mind. He also knew how much the Death Eaters needed the potions master. She also knew that he liked Severus or at least respected him in the only way a perverted man like Malfoy could. As he went ahead, Severus turned and blew her a kiss, which was a little compensation.

Dobby was shaking his head and moaning and gibbering.

He did not return at supper, or later in the evening, and she was beginning to wonder if he had been taken. Disturbed, she fidgeted about his rooms, sat down to read in his office, and generally wandered about. She considered informing Dumbledore, but did not want to jump to conclusions. Dobby said that the horses had been returned to the stables a couple of hours later but that as far as he knew, Malfoy had gone some time ago, and so it was a puzzle. 

While she was waiting and wondering, she came across the potion that had changed into blue, and to her amazement, it had changed again. It was pure and clear, reflecting the crystal jar that it stood in. She didn't think he had been working on it, but then again, he might have. Sitting in front of the low fire, book in hand, she wondered about it, and decided she would have to speak to him about her thoughts on it, regardless of whether they sounded silly or not. She speculated about going and talking to Fawkes, just for company, or maybe even Xiomara, but decided that it was a little too late and eventually dozed off.

To be wakened by something, some sound perhaps, and saw him standing there, watching her, still as a rock. There was pain on his face.

Dopey from sleep and her arms stiff and cramped, she did not register it at first. When she stared again, the look had gone. She heard him get a drink from a cupboard.

'Would you like a drink?' he asked.

'No, no thank you,' then watched him take two. She was beginning to wake up and was about to ask what had happened, what Malfoy had wanted, when he came charging back to her. He did not look directly at her, which was odd, but took her hand so that she was pitched out of the chair towards his rooms.

'Go to bed,' he said forcefully, then held her for a second and tenderly kissed her on the forehead in such a sweet manner that it made her uneasy. 

'What's..'

'I have to go to Dumbledore – now, this minute,' he said, turning away from her, still not meeting her eyes. 

_This is frightening._

'Severus…'

'Do not ask,' he snapped suddenly. Then relented with the look on her face. 'Please.'

And then he was through the fire; livid green flames shooting out behind him, and then silence. 

_At least he was safe for the time being._

But her stomach felt queasy. Taking herself in hand, she went to bed and after a while, slept heavily.

To be woken with Severus shaking her.

'My love, my beautiful one, come on, wake up, you have to come with me,' and she once again found him in front of her, his face slashed with pain and worry. Fuzzy, she groped for a dressing gown, and then remembered she didn't have one, but he had one of his own for her, ready in his hands. 

_So his expression of anguish had not been an illusion._

Clumsily, she put it on, and then stared at him.

Pulling her anxiously but solicitously, towards the fireplace in the bedroom, he grabbed enough Floo Powder for two.

'Oh, no,' she had time to say, before he held her close, so close, she could hardly breathe, as if it might be the last time he ever held her and then threw down the powder.

'Professor Dumbledore's Office,' he declared.

'You smell of horse,' she muttered into his chest, and he squeezed her tight as they twirled through the darkness.

By the time they had arrived, she had woken up. Dumbledore was still in his robes rather than night attire, and there lay the remains of tea and crumpets on a table. As she blinked in the light, he clicked his fingers and ordered some more refreshments from the appearing elf. 

_It had taken her quite a while to get used to that, but she didn't even blink nowadays. Life was certainly strange._

Severus guided her to a chair and she sat down, aware suddenly of the two men's focus on her, her lover looking intent but still this unusual lack of meeting of eyes.

Her heart rate rose a little and she glanced at Dumbledore, hoping for illumination. However, it was Severus who got up and began to pace and then speak after the food had been served and the house elf gone. She felt like a Cornish pixie in a trap or one of those garden pixies that were about to be thrown over the garden fence. Severus' dressing gown, enormous on her and silky, slipped slightly, to reveal a naked shoulder, and she pulled it back up again, as if expecting assault. Severus kept looking at the Headmaster, and the Head just returned it with a tilt of his glasses and said nothing. The tension in the room was mounting. If he did not speak soon, she would burst with irritation.

'Elrin,' he began, attempting to control the level of his voice and the dignity of his professorship, 'we – or rather I have had an uncomfortable communication from Voldemort.' 

_Yes._

He swallowed and turned so that she might not see his face and with obvious reluctance continued.

'He wants me to, no, commands me to – marry.'

She jerked her head up. Her world tilted.

Recovering, she glared at him – 'AND?'

'To – you.'

The world tilted upright, but it made her more afraid than when it had tilted.

She stood up in shock, the dressing gown slipping again, and she grabbed it once again.  

'At Beltane,' he continued.

'Beltane?' she asked, puzzled.

'It's a festival – in a weeks' time,' interjected Dumbledore.

'Elrin, there is a twist to it,' continued Severus, 'a condition.'

'What evil has he concocted this time?' She was about to be angry. Very angry. 

'That I give you a special potion.'

In her horror, she gaped at him.

'What kind of potion?' 

_Did she have to drag it out of him?_

She stared at Dumbledore, because she could not stand the sight of the potions master.__

He took a deep breath. 'It is called the Patriarchium - sometimes called the Sovereignty Potion. It is an old – now unused potion – at least in civilized…'

'I don't want,' she hissed at him, 'to know its' history – I want to know what it means.' She could see him wilting under her anger and it was strange to see him like that, but she could not hold herself back. 

_He did appear distraught._

'It means that I have your soul.' 

'You have my soul anyway.' 

A grim smile lifted one side of his mouth. 'This is different. It means that you no longer have your own freewill.' He closed his eyes after saying it, as if the worst were said and done. 'You have to do anything I say. Anything at all. Despite your own will and choice and desire, I override everything and anything - you do or say.' Exhausted, he sat down.

'You – may have finished, but I have not,' she stared angrily at the hunched figure.

'My dear, ' said Dumbledore gently, 'I think I will just step outside for a little.'

'No,' she said, 'you are part of this mess, so I require you to stay – _if_ you don't mind.' Her fury knew no bounds. The Head blinked at Severus and stayed still, folding his long hands over his beard.

'Why did you not,' she growled at her lover, 'speak to me about it first? Should I not be the one to know first? Something that concerns me so significantly?'

'I – apologise my love,' he said stiffly, 'we are not the only ones involved here.' He stood up again, perhaps to regain his dignity, perhaps to escape the extreme proximity of her anger that appeared to thrust into him like knives. 

'There is more,' he said. She waited, holding her fury, but still explosively angry with him for not telling her immediately – confiding in her. Hiding while he sweated over the problem all evening no doubt, wondering what to do. Not being able to meet her eyes: keeping his secret until he could talk with his confidant. She knew how important the old wizard was to him, but she was so mad, she couldn't hear herself think. Hauling her out in the middle of the night hadn't helped her humour.

'The alternative is that I have been ordered to poison you. You are too potentially dangerous to him. You are either a weapon for them, or a destroyed weapon and it is also a test for me, of my loyalty, since the last – fiasco.'

 'Well, that's a nice choice for you. Marry or kill. And I have the choice to become a living corpse or die. So, from what I understand, you have to make a decision to choose between your work and your private life? The sarcasm dripped out of her. 'I assume you realize that for a woman, that, that is not particularly flattering choice?'

Severus made a pleading look at her that twisted her heart. The tug and pull of their relationship was as strong as it ever was, she could feel the power of it underneath her emotions. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was hold him. She could feel his torment, feel the pain that he had never imagined could exist. Cruciatus was as nothing compared to this.

'I could pretend to take it,' she suggested. 

'Yes, you could – except that – Malfoy is going to give you the potion - in person,' he replied.

Molten fury raged in her stomach.

'Can't you just tell him to stuff it?' she said, turning back to the two men.

'Yes,' said the Headmaster, we could, and gladly too. He turned to Severus who had his mouth open, 'Yes, my dear fellow, it is an option. You could finish with all that devilry, since you have been doing it for so long now. You have paid your dues, since that was how you saw it, and even doing it for justice, you have done more than enough.' The potions master looked devastated, as if his life had just been whisked out from under him, but he said nothing, just continued to stare at the old man.  


	20. ring around the moon

AUTHORS NOTES Thanks Windflower:  corset versus bodice etc. This top has a moulding structure, has ribs like an old fashioned undergarment, but this is worn on the outside. Therefore it is a corset. Yes? 

Thanks for the mention Arachnes Child – I love your story – keep it coming….

Thank you for your reviews everyone. Keep 'em comin'. I'm very greedy. 

Enjoy.

                            Ring around the moon 

Chapter twenty

Nothing had really been decided, but since there was no way that Elrin could or would take the potion and since it was inconceivable that Severus would poison her, the only route appeared to be that he would have to give up his double life. Although he hated it, it had given him a purpose for living, a constant debt paid for that which he could never pay in full, but more importantly, it was a unique and pivotal role that might save the school as well as the wider world. Elrin knew this, but could see no other route – she could not give her soul, even to such as the man she loved as a sacrifice. Giving her life, she could understand, but not to be a living robot. Throughout next day, neither of them having slept, he looked paper thin white and drawn, his eyes in despair, and spent most of the hours haunting the corridors, snapping and snarling at any unfortunate student that happened to be in his path and searching out potential troublemakers with extra zeal – Gryffindors naturally.

Elrin he faced with shame and guilt, his thoughts pulling him this way and that and once her anger had died down she watched him suffer with her own brand of agony. Part of her was angry at the notion that Voldemort, from his cowardly hideaway, had stretched out one of those nasty long fingers and planted a dirty fingernail straight onto their souls. 

_Hadn't he tortured Severus enough? Probably not. _

_Who would have thought the idea of marriage would have shattered both of them? _

A part of her mind dwelt on the thought. Never had she been one of those women to dream of weddings; never had one that many females dreamt of as adolescents and even later. It held no supreme or idle fantasy for her, but once the mysterious significance of matrimony had come out into the open air, it teased her with snatches of images. All the clichés that were secreted in her subconscious danced about in her head, maddening her.

Back in their real world, and not in some futile illusion, she realized that if Severus stopped his spying, then their relationship could be destroyed: she could see – an erosion of something precious – since his self-confidence and resolve was wrapped up in his purpose, even though he hated and feared and dreaded it as did she. Eventually, she found that she had to put the problem to one side, as it was becoming too much to endure and made herself function through the hours without thinking about it.

That morning, as he was dressing after a bath and still hot and damp from it, an inner thrust of tenderness had shot through her entire body at the sight of the vibrancy, the sheer physical presence of him wrapped in the reality of his personality. Seeing her halt in the process of dressing, her soft breasts about to disappear into the folds of her top, he seemed in two minds whether to approach her or not. Culpability and desire held him in equal check. He stood there looking unreadable, feeling angry at being unable to cope with this crisis, as his personal involvement confused him, until she called to him softly. He answered by bending and kissing her quietly on her bare neck and she could feel his wet hair flopping against her face and the heated smell of bath herbs mingled with his own scent. He had looked heartbroken. Mixed feelings of urgently wanting him flooded her body and her mind. 

'I love you, Severus. I hate what is happening.' 

'I do want to, you know, without this sword over my head,' he said.

'Do what?' 

'Marry you.'

'Do you?' 

'Of course I do. It would have been the next logical step,' and looked down at his hands, and then at her, 'but always my vocation seemed to be paramount, always more urgent. Perhaps only more habitual.'

Bending down again, he pushed back a long tendril of her hair around her ear and stared blankly at it. She didn't know what to say, because she knew how much of his life had been dedicated to the elimination of not only ignorance, but the threat of despotism and tyranny. His devotion to his parchments and potions and the school, was not the sum total of what he was, and he was being forced into chopping off an important part of himself. In fact, she was part of that brutal choice. He stood between a rock and a hard place and it showed on his face, his eyes dulled and absent. He sat beside her, the side of the bed lowering with his added weight.

'I'm so sorry, my darling,' she said softly and then instinctively gathered him in her arms and he immediately fell into them and they both collapsed both half dressed onto the bed, the rumpled bedclothes still warm beneath them, a mix of silk and ancient lace, fat pillows and plump black eiderdown.

'Do you – want to?' he asked, tentatively, his voice quiet in her ear.

'Well, it's very near breakfast…'

'I _meant_…. do you…want to…marry?'

She shifted slightly to look at him carefully.

'Is that - a proposal - Professor Snape?'

His dungeon-black eyes glittered for the first time since Malfoy had brought the news that had shattered his world.

'Properly,' he said, 'with you – as yourself, not – with any of that ridiculous nonsense.'

He stared at her, reading her face, unsure as to how she was going to react. 

'Will you – marry – me?' The words must have sounded strange in his ears because the look on his face was unreadable: it might have been fear of the answer, but whether it was fear of assent or dissent, it was impossible to say. She kept him waiting because the silence, the whole significance of it, was hovering over their intention and their choice like some kind of bird of omen: an alternative to the harsh decisions they had just been forced to make. It was like a world shift, like standing on a precipice and deciding to jump, like trading one reality for another.

'Yes, my beautiful professor, I will.'

And then his walls crumbled and he sank onto her breasts that were yet free of the moulding corset and she clutched his head against her fiercely. Warm from his bath, he nuzzled her breasts as if he had never met them before and then lifting upwards, pulled her towards him. Interlocked mouths searched for soft lips and firm tongues and as their lower bodies answered to their upper activity, he began to pull off the her clothes in clumsy Muggle fashion, while she clutched at his. White shirt and frockcoat and corset and skirt crumpled together on the floor until they completed the task of feeling hot skin to even hotter skin. He fought to slide his hands over every inch of her smooth marbleness, fumbling with her petticoat which they didn't have time or bother to remove, while she fought to find her favourite places on his body, smoothing down the black pelt of his stomach, running her hands along the sinewy thickness of his arms, stroking his long thighs, then letting her hands slide up high on his soft inner thigh, teasing, until he jerked with the tension of it. She squeezing the lusty substance of his buttocks and caressed his neck, his opulent lips, his jutting nose, his recently shaved jaw. In this war of who could stimulate the most - her wider erotic areas together with his sensuous hands, it was he who had her panting the loudest as he regained the dignity and purpose that he had felt robbed of earlier. He had found her neck to be particularly susceptible and had concentrated on that, and had licked and sucked until she was squirming with a mixture of delight and irritation.

'You vampire,' she swore at him, struggling to get to something more crucial of his and he gasped loudly as she held him by his hard and flailing susceptibility.

'You vixen,' he snarled.  Laughing, they struggled; he gained ground and managed to turn her over his knees, and lifting up her petticoat, exposed her naked rump for his delight**.**

'You are looking for some punishment, my lady.'

'What for?' she exclaimed.

'I'll think of something,' he said, concentrating on the smooth taut texture beneath his hand.

'Typical potions professor!' she shot back.

Grinning, he smacked her firmly.

'You beast! She squirmed unable to move out of his grip. It was easy to keep her down, once she had been placed into position. He smacked her again and became fascinated by the pinkness of the replicated hand showing on her firm roundness. She cried out then but not in pain, and did not struggle but angled her legs open.

'You like this,' he murmured near her ear.

'Let me go,' she said, wiggling again, but laughing. He kissed her bottom and then smacked the other cheek with more care, less harshness, nearer her most sensitive centre. She shuddered.

'You are in for a rough ride with me, you know that,' he said, with undisguised pleasure. Alternating small spankings with caressing her plump and pleasing bottom, he heard her muffled moaning in a pillow. Then turning her over, her resistance minimal, he bent her back over his legs so that she was spread out for his inspection and delectation, and before she could protest, made straight for her own vulnerability and with the same meticulous attention and diligence as he would have in stirring a cauldron, he proceeded to stir her with one finger. That had her exclusive attention and she felt herself being pleasured under his watchful eyes, as she bent her back in what might have looked like pain. If she was suffering, he was enjoying it, and sustained it until she had abandoned all claims on his body and released her own for his control, her arms outstretched by her sides.

 'Severus…' she cried, though whether to stop or continue, he was unsure, so he considered the best option was for him to continue. Her arms pleaded with him and he bared his teeth in gratification all the while circling her soft belly with his other hand and using his elbow to keep her flat on her back while he was in an elevated position. She could not rise easily,.

'Are you ready to submit to my superior techniques?' he drawled, the question already answered in his mind.

'No,' she replied with dignity, then stopped as he turned his finger anti-clockwise, twitched and her eyes opened wide in abandonment, her hair thrown about her, glossy in the light.

'Such an easy victim,' he hissed in her ear, and thrust his tongue straight into it.

'You are killing me.' 

'What a way to die.' 

'I could think of worse.' 

'You will yield to me.' 

'Never. ahhh,' 

'Spread yourself wide to me.' 

'ahhhhhh.'

'Give yourself wholly to me.'

'Over my….'

'Surrender yourself to me.'

'Severus…'

'Surrender yourself.'

'Sev…'

'…Surrender.'

'I…I… do, willingly.'

After releasing his hand, he kissed her slowly, and they savoured the intimacy of their mouths. They lay like that for a second or two; lips open, breathing one another's breath.

'You had no other option,' he said, his silken voice low and smiled, a shocking open smile, then lifted himself up and reverted to solemnity, looking at her in wonder. 'You look so beautiful lying there like that. Radiant. Open for me. Just for me.'

She stroked his face, not taking her eyes from his.

'I want you…I want you inside of me, I want all of you. There was never a time that I looked at you without wanting you. All the time.'

He looked as if he might have said something in reply, but he was beyond speech and she was beyond reason and care, lost in the plummeting depths of his eyes. The next moment she felt him move across and climb on top of her, concentration and stealth in his movements and she watched him in fascination, witnessing the intensity and the swaying of his potency as he lowered himself into her soft and dark junction. 

'Wait,' she said, and elegantly lifted one leg high over his shoulder, hugging his back with her foot, leaving the other leg under him so that she presented a scissor movement and an complete openness to him. With rapturous excitement he plunged slowly into her body. Tightly, she held onto his arms as he manoeuvred and drove his passion and his sweet darkness into her body and right into her soul. She lifted up to meet him, and they writhed, and between throbbing and contracting, thrusting and sweating, writhing and pressing, grew delirious with each other.

'I love you,' she cried out, muffled against his shoulder.

'My beloved,' he moaned.

Their ride, a swimming, drifting ecstasy, wound its' way through both their hearts and through their blood and through their subtle bodies and through their pasts and through their future. She received his force willingly and gave it back to him and he gave it willingly with all the life-power that he could muster and received it back from her. He was a demon possessed, he was a valiant crusader, he was adrift on an ocean tide. Encircled by faery rings, she was an opened heart, she was a fiery queen, she was a galaxy of shifting stars. Their rhythms built and built until they could stand the joy and the agony no more and both surrendered to each other and to the need of their existence. With a cry that spoke of pain of time past and time present, he reached the summit and found himself not alone and she wept silent tears for no apparent reason.

Sneaking in late for breakfast was no easy feat, and neither accomplished it successfully, even given that their entrance was separated by minutes. They had no real need for secrecy, but neither relished the delight and torment of the students and looks from members of staff. They were spared neither. Someone was always on the lookout: someone was always noticing. Their potions master was bristling with a vibrancy that had the topmost banners on the ceiling quivering and the rather erratic and occasionally unnerving researcher was glowing brighter than a Remembral. It did not take a seventh year genius in the making to work it out. Most of the third years had clocked on long before now but this morning it was so evident that things had reached a head that it almost screamed out into the packed hall like a Howler.

Breakfast was redolent with fruit that morning - grapes, peaches and bananas – and bananas were risky things in front of pre-adolescent presences. Even the innocence of peeling of one could set 4th years into convulsions. The welcoming softness of the grapes and the slithering juiciness of the peaches were more amenable fruits and both of them devoured enough with their cereal to make those sitting next to them wonder at their hasty appetites. Only Hagrid could match them for that. It was Hagrid who told her that after breakfast there was an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix: apparently Dumbledore had some news. 

As the Headmaster was speaking, the members of the Order of the Phoenix were quietly listening, scattered on chairs in his office, heads mostly down or staring into the walls, thinking, absorbing. While Elrin was aware of Severus' irritation at the membership of the three students, Harry, Ron and Hermione as well as the dubious (in his opinion) inclusion of Lupin, particularly as he was still in a potentially unstable state, she guiltily wondered more about the addition of Hagrid. Wonderful and faithful as he was, he was still, with the best will in the world, a blabbermouth, but at least she understood Dumbledore's implicit trust in the gentle half-giant. The rest were members of staff: Minerva, Severus and herself. She thought that the students aught to be too busy studying to be involved since they were in their last year, but recognized that since they would involve themselves anyway, it was better to have them with the Order than outside it, acting independently. They had been working like this for some time: if anyone, she was the outsider. 

She sat away from Severus since he preferred to lean against the wall, looking his habitually bored self at such occasions, but now she knew that he was taking every in nuance of the proceedings, was checking each member for their potentiality (in his eyes) to egocentricity and foolish independence of behaviour. Still, despite the fact that he masqueraded his indifference, his eyes flicked now and then to check her presence, though they were both aware of each other well enough. There was a warm joining between them, a blissful awareness of each other and images of their passion flashed past her mind constantly, threatening to disrupt her concentration. She felt taller, brighter, moving in liquid beauty, her aura aflame and when she looked at him, even for a second, her inner body leapt and strained to be with him. She imagined that the headmaster twinkled at her before they sat down. He was not twinkling now.

 "And since this disturbing news, we need to be on constant alert. I would remind you to keep checking your own sources of information so that we can deal with this new threat."

"Except," complained Lupin, "that we don't know what it is."

"No, but we do know he is building up to something big. There are movements all over the country. We know a situation is coming very quickly. It is considered likely to be a fundamental attack on a place that is especially significant. I want Hogwarts at top security level without the main body of the students knowing. An impossible task, but we need to do it. I will inform the rest of the staff independently.'

"Haven't we always been under threat?" asked Ron now long legged and too tall for his trousers, speaking from a corner seat. There was no doubt, at least from the evidence of his nonchalant posture and his demeanour in voicing that question, that he wanted to appear cool in front of Hermione who was sitting on his left, Harry on his other side.

"Yes, we have. However, my informant has been adamant in his fear that whatever it is – and vague though that description is, is going to happen in the next two weeks and I believe we cannot exclude the school as a possible target."

"With all the wards on it?" Harry looked dubious.

"It may not be a matter of forced entry," Dumbledore continued, his eyes searching out all in the room," So although we cannot know what it is likely to be, I need you all to be extra vigilant on home ground. Anything suspicious, report back to me immediately. Any student, anyone behaving oddly, anything out of the ordinary, please come straight to me."

Minerva piped up, "We have Beltane almost upon us. I presume we will need to cancel Albus?"

Dumbledore drew in his breath, "No, Minerva. We will not. I intend to keep Hogwarts' traditions in place. He wins if we buckle under fear."

"But," she protested, "all the students in the grounds – in the night – goodness knows what mischief half of them will be up to."

"We will do the best we can, as long as we can, Minerva," he said, and stared at her adamantly.

She shook her head as if he were crazy, but did not argue further. 

Lupin looked up from where he had been deep in thought.

"Do you not think we should just send the students home?"

"I have considered it, but it would send a message of weakness to Voldemort, and he has his follower's children here. I doubt whether he would directly attack the students. However, I think we should put plans into effect so that, if needed, we could do so in double quick time. Minerva, would you see to that please? 

"Yes, Albus," she replied, but the deputy did not look particularly happy about it.

'Thank you everyone, that is enough for now.' Minerva rushed out with Hagrid behind her and Dumbledore retreated to the inner sanctum of his office. Severus left the room, glaring as he passed at the three Gryffindors that were left. 

Meanwhile, Elrin went across to where Lupin was sitting, his pale gentle face following her approach.

'Hello Remus. It's good to see you about.'

'Hi Elrin. It's a pleasure to see you too.'

He looked a bit uncomfortable, as if he wanted to hide his unkempt air.

'How are you? She asked and meant it. Seeing him gave her a breath of fresh air – an intelligent man who had a gentle sense of humour and who she had much time for. 'I have to keep out of the way of the main body of students,' he said huskily, 'but provided I keep a low profile, and go back to St.Mungoe's at night, I am fine. 

_Imagine living in a hospital, only to be let out in the daytime – and then to have to return in the evening…'_

As he continued to speak, she felt guilty that she had not visited him in hospital, although she had not had much spare time. She had been so preoccupied with Severus. Touching him on the arm, she felt sorry for him, but also genuinely liked him a great deal. He seemed subdued and it made her feel awkward. Then Harry approached the both of them and as Remus introduced them, she smiled at the tall student, his dark calmness radiating something special. The other two students joined in, delighted to be able to speak to the previous Dark Arts Teacher and he appeared to enjoy their company. Then the subject went onto Beltane.

'What is this festival?' she asked.

'It's an ancient one,' announced Hermione, and although she had not lost her desire to inform, her tone was considerably less patronising than when she had been younger. 'It's the moving from one half of the year to the other, from cold and darkness of winter time to the heat and light of summertime. It's a wedding festival for the Sun God who weds the Goddess – a sexual symbolism of nature's fertility. You might,' she said, 'know them as the May Queen & May King – or again…he's often called the Jack in the Green…'

'Ah, now I have heard of them, thank you Hermione,' she said. Remembering that the girl had been brought up as a Muggle as well, she warmed to her and her clear description.

'We all know _you_ want to be May Queen,' pointed out Ron to Hermione, smirking, redder than she though he should be. They had all grown so much. The boys were lanky and Hermione was a blossoming young woman, though her school robes were not particularly flattering.

'I do not,' said the young woman indignantly. 'And I suppose you want to be Jack in the Green…?'

'You must be joking. All that dressing up.'

'How do you choose who gets the honour?' asked Elrin, aware of Severus' return and his looming presence behind her. The others were suddenly painfully aware of him. 

'They put all the 7th year names in a bowl and by magical process, two names come out of it, one male and one female,' said Harry, the only one not to be intimidated.

'Like the Triwizard Tournament?' she asked, not without a feeling of scepticism. Severus sneered. Harry twitched at the thought, 'Yes, a bit like that. Spells and incantations so that no-one cheats.'

'Well,' she said, feeling the shivery pull of him behind her, 'The best of luck to you.'

'Oh, we don't want the honour,' said Hermione  'Overrated I think. It's much more fun being part of the festival.' 

Ron appeared to be unconvinced. 'This year might be a bit more stressful.'

'Instead of wasting your time and energies wondering who might be chosen, he growled silkily at the three blank faces. 'I suggest that you concentrate on your potions essays. Not one of you has any reason to be complacent,' he warned as he guided Elrin out of the door, looking back at them menacingly. Hermione folded her arms in disgust after he had left. Fancy placing her in the same category as the other two she huffed to herself.

The next few days were a whirl of getting ready for Beltane, students designing outfits, transforming things into decorations, Hagrid busy hauling wood around, Sprout going crazy in the greenhouse: raising flowers big enough to blow your head off, staff up to their ears in marking while attempting to cool the ardency of youth for the coming event. Questions of who was to be May Queen and King was upper in the mind of many an adolescent, and there was much teasing and torturing as per usual. Questions of another sort where on the minds of the teachers and the Order of the Phoenix.

Elrin and Severus spent what time they could on the remaining parchments, holed up in his office or rooms or out fetching items from Hogsmede's chemist through the fireplace method. Certainly, the problem of Voldemort's demands hung over them like a thundercloud, but they refused to bend to him and generally attempted to bury themselves in working and desperate loving at night. There was the constant dread in her that his arm would start to burn, so she kept a special eye on him for symptoms, but nothing had happened so far. 

One particular evening, nearing Beltane, they had the windows open to smell the warm spring air while she was reading and he was writing up some translation notes into his journal, when she remembered something that she had meant to speak to him about.

'Severus…'

'Hum?'

It was often not a good idea to interrupt him in this ritual, but she felt impelled to say something while she remembered. 

'Go on,' he muttered, 'I am listening.'

'Did you work on that potion – you know – the one that went blue - afterwards?'

His pen stopped scratching, and only his eyes lifted towards her. His students dreaded the look. 

'No,' he said, curtly. He did not like to be reminded of the failure of the potion, though the transformation was peculiar. He still had not investigated it. It made no sense.

'It's - changed again.'

The effect on him was electric. 

'What did you say?' he snarled.

'It's altered. That potion.'

'To what?'

'Clear. Like clear water.'

His papers went flying, books falling, his lamp nearly off his desk. He was round it in an instant, robes airborne. In searching for the potion, she was afraid for jars and glass instruments and other precious items as he almost tore the shelf apart. 

'Where is it?' he yelled. 

'It's here,' she said calmly from behind him, and then went to lift a jar from the rear of a large mottled glass.

'Put it down there – gently,' he said, carefully controlled, eyes burning. His experience in dealing with obliteratingly clumsy students had him in good training for this moment. She did as she was told and watched him approach the jar as if it were a newborn child. He studied the label without touching it. The ward on the top had not been broken.

'You have not touched this?' he asked, a light sweat on his forehead.

'No.'

'I have to ask you again and please answer me truly. Have you touched this liquid, altered it, added anything to it, or done anything that was different?'

'No, Severus, I have not.' She was not offended, but curious.

He shook his head and muttered. She could hear '_not possible'_.__

Carefully, more carefully than she had ever seen him, he took the jar and warded it into a cupboard.

She took a deep breath to say something but her words never came out.

'Do you realize what this means?' he said excitedly.

'It might work with Remus now?'

'Yes,' he said almost holding his breath, 'It might.' And he threw his arms around her so completely that she was utterly surrounded in black. There was nowhere else she wanted to be. There was a peak of wild happiness for him: a crushing from his body with that dark attire and a sinking into his very being, for her. 

Immediately he wanted to get to Lupin that night, but realized that it would not be practicable although sleep that night would undoubtedly be impossible for him. He decided to rise early and send his owl who had been pretty lazy these past few months. 

'That'll get the old girl out from her nest to do some serious work.' 

'Do you realize how impossible all this is?' he murmured as she began to drift off to sleep that night.

'Yes, my darling,' she said with a smile on her face, spooning snugly into his body, all angles and softness and warmth.

Remus was round in a flash it seemed. An hour after Severus had sent the owl, he arrived in the office, flushed and slightly dishevelled, grey strands sticking out from his head, but himself in complete control. Severus was as tense, pacing the floor before his arrival: breakfast forgotten. She made the guest comfortable and then sat and watched the scene. 

'You do understand, don't you, L-Remus, that this, like before, is an experiment, and that you still need to take precautions?' queried the potions master, hovering, eyes burning.

'Of course I do,' was the reply. He glanced at Elrin, as if for support, and she smiled and he looked down. 

'Since it is the full moon soon I will come with you to St.Mungoe's then, to observe.'

'I am under close observation at that time. There is no need to trouble yourself Severus. I will not do anything careless this time.'

'No, you won't. But I have my own scientific observations to complete. I have to monitor you.'

'Very well,' said Remus, sounding tired and humbled. Unlike his previous visit, such a time ago, the cavalier spirit seemed to have gone underground: there was a dejected air hidden behind his controlled hope this time. She leant over to him and rested a hand on his sleeve in comfort, but she did not feel that there was anything she could say which would help matters, so she said nothing but sent him something warm from deep in her heart to him. A primeval emotion stirred in the potions master as he sensed her gift, made him jerk slightly as he was still pacing the flagstones and ferociously spun round on him, making Remus jump as if he were guilty of something. 

'It may be that you need only one dose, maybe more. I do not know at this time,' he growled.

'Whatever you say, Severus. I will be a good patient. I've had some practice of late,' he said wryly. Give us your best shot. You always were bloody good at it.' The compliment struck some deep chord in his past enemy and she noticed his face soften about the eyes, though his face was critically intensive. Whipping around, he marched over to the cupboard and collected a phial full, watching the soft clear liquid within the glass and it's moist end almost like a lover as he advanced on the waiting patient. The potion master's eyes glittered but his breath stopped in his chest as he administered a small portion into Remus' open mouth.

Some minutes later he checked his patient in the light of the window searching his green iris forever, or so it seemed to Remus.

'It's the same as before…' he declared. 'Except.'

'Except what?' asked Remus. 'For the sake of heaven man, tell me. I 'm not a glass test tube. I have lived with this a long time.'

'There are indications,' said Severus slowly, 'that there is a finer transformation going on,' he said, obviously not considering jubilation too early, particularly after last time, but as he turned to Elrin, she could see a luminous transformation going on his on his own face. He hid it from Remus, but not from her. 

'You must rest,' he said brusquely, 'then I will come to you at the weekend to check.

'Thank you Severus,' he said quietly, almost inaudibly.

'It may not have worked,' was the quick reply, walking to his desk.

'I know that. Thank you for trying.'

Severus was stunned.

'I know you….'

'Leave it Remus,' he said. 

'Ok,' he said, getting up to go.

'Will you stay for some breakfast?' asked Elrin. She felt rather than saw the dark figure stiffen. 'We haven't had any, have you?'

'-No,' he said, 'I haven't.'

 'We'll be sending down to the kitchens for something.'

'Well I –' and he stopped, very aware of the use of the third person plural in her speech and her assumption of hospitality. 'Please,' she said, aware of dark eyes upon her as well as the green. She was acutely conscious of the present restraints of the professor's life and his return to a satisfactory, but hardly homely environment. It seemed like a cold thing to send him straight back there. Severus, however, had no such compunction. Outside his interest in him as a guinea pig, there was none, though his hate had somewhat abated over the years. He was sure he could dig some up though, as Elrin's soft face turned to their visitor and ex-DADA teacher. Saying nothing he rustled parchments about on his desk irritably. There was however, a part of him that was not unpleased.

'Well, ok,' he said, looking around, unsure if Severus would descend on him and throw him out. Amazingly, he did not, and was thus tempted by the warm fire, even with the weather warm outside, as well as the prospect of some delicious late breakfast.

The weekend couldn't come quick enough for either of the two men, but there was one thing that Severus needed to settle before that. It was while he and Elrin were in Hogsmede, after buying some ingredients for the remaining potions as well as some personal shopping, that they stopped in at 'The Bug and Blanket' which didn't sound any better than the pub she had noticed down Knockturn Alley: The Buck and Breeches.' Severus assured her the reputation belied its' name and grinned slyly at her slight unease as they went in. It had the hushed quietness of a monastery and the food of the French and she loved it. After the bustle and stress of shopping, it was heavenly to be lulled into a blissful rest amongst the shadows with the light streaming through onto the tables in an upper room after a wonderful lunch, a drink in front of them. He took a few moments to make a reservation for a dinner for two after Beltane and then came back to where they were sitting. One or two couples were scattered about at tables, talking quietly. It made a change from The Three Broomsticks, which was apt to be rather rowdy at times, with too many students as well as staff to bump into.

'I had to go to Gringotts,' he said, turning to her.

'Yes, you said.'

'I needed to take something out from my strongroom.'

Since her feet were still aching, she responded automatically. 'Hmm.'

It was so tranquil and uninterrupted in their corner that she was surprised to find Severus appearing to pull himself together.

'I have asked you this before, and received your answer, but I need to do this properly,' he said, rather formally she thought, and no soon had she blinked at him, than he had slipped on one knee before her and the hairs on the back of her neck went straight up. To see him bend before her in a public place sent cascades of desire right through her and he had never looked more powerful nor so desirably vulnerable. The contradiction was sweetness to her senses and manna to her inner heart. One person had noticed, but they just elbowed their partner and were sensibly not making a sound.

'Elrin Danse, will you marry me?' The question did not have the same naturalness as the previous one, but instead, there was a style to it and a ceremony to it that she could not deny. The rays of the light from the high window cascaded in, striking him as he knelt, making his hair shimmer in it's deep darkness. To her, the world appeared to cease; it seemed to take her into another realm altogether, something familiar, but entirely ancient.

'Yes, I will, Severus Snape,' she replied gently, observing him look up at her, eyes serious and sharp.

After a moment, in which they both stared at one another, he brought out from his frockcoat pocket, a dark, intricately decorated ring with blood red stones locked into its surface. It looked antiquated and quite, quite arresting. As soon as she saw it, she gaped in astonishment. She had always hated those women who gasped and became orgasmically excited by the sight of a diamond or any of those ordinary Muggle rings when proposed to, but this was something else. It was genuine admiration.

'It's so beautiful, it's so – _old_. I can feel the centuries from here.' 

'It was my mother's and my grandmother's. In fact it goes back many generations. Would you mind if….?' Hesitating, he held it out between a finger and thumb towards her.

'It's like a ring from a dream world.' As she held it, it thrummed in her hands.

'Of course I would love to have it.' And then added lightly, 'as long as you don't mix me up with your mother.'

He pushed his head forward in mock exasperation. 'Do I appear to consider you in that way?'

She smiled, thinking of a certain incident. Standing upright and taking the ring back from her, he took out his wand, placed it on the table and muttered '_Sanctum Divide temporanea. Dictum factum_,' and the ring fell apart in two halves, two arcs rolling on the table and falling over with a tiny clatter.

Shocked, she nearly knocked their drinks over. 'Severus,' she cried out, 'what have you done?'

Puzzled, he turned to her. 'What's wrong?'

'The – what you have done to the ring!'

He nodded. 'Ah. You don't do this in your Muggle world then?'

'How could you do that to such a beautiful ring?'

He laughed, and then saw her face. 'It is what we do,' he explained solemnly, 'I have one half, and you have the other. We wear it round our necks in declaration of our betrothal. When we are married, it is joined back as a whole again.'

She was mollified, but was not entirely convinced.

'It then becomes a wedding ring?'

'No, it is the betrothal ring. This is for the woman to wear later. It has been through this process many times, many, many times, through many generations of Snape women. There is no harm done.'

'It felt like a real splitting. Are you sure?' He found her horror and doubt amusing. 'Trust me. Trust me on this.'****

'What did you say when you divided it?' 

'Sacredly divide temporarily. No sooner said than done.' 

She remembered when she had been in the hospital wing, and he had muttered Latin counter-curses in her ear – how she had demanded an interpretation and how he had lovingly, if with suffering patience, acceded. 

'Now will you accept your half?'

She took the tiny half and caressed its dark beauty.

'Thank you.'

'We can find a chain to fix it to,' he said, appeasing her, surprised at his own indulgent behaviour. He waved his wand and muttered something she didn't hear, and as a fine chain appeared, muttered again and it became fixed to the half ring.

'Bend your head,' he said quietly, and lifted it over her head and dropped it onto her breast. 'It means I have your heart.'

'What about yours?' 

An incantation later, he had pinned his own half to his collar. He looked at her.

'It means you have my pulse, my life blood.'

She was in the office when he returned after the weekend. His hair was wild and his hands agitated. 'It worked, Elrin, it worked. I knew it would. It had to.' And he flung his arms round her, whirling her around. Dizzy and breathless, she laughed and he cried out in happiness. 'Oh the wonder of it. Our work. All that we have done – together… We won't know truly, not for sure, until several months into it, but…it looks good. It looks good. I say that without any real doubt. It is different this time.'

Flushed, he looked down at her. 'Do you know what this could mean?' he asked her triumphantly.

'No?' she beamed, thinking that apart from settling his heart to do something tangible, something great for the community, even as he shunned it, she had no idea. It was typical of him to heal someone he previously hated, and did not care for particularly even now, just as he saved Harry's life several times in earlier years.

'It means…' and he hesitated, 'that the potion will reverse the _Patriarchium_, if you took it.'

'You don't know that totally,' she said.

'No, he said, 'not absolutely, but I know it as I knew Remus taking it would work. I know it in my guts, in my heart and in my mind, in my experience, in everything I have ever done, good or bad.'

'Enough to risk my individuality with it?'

'Maybe that is too much: you are right,' and he sighed, but he couldn't prevent the look on his face betraying his convictions and his desire. She felt a twinge as she knew he was facing a black hole of Voldemort's wrath when his precious potions master and spy would refuse to give the noxious potion to her, either at Beltane that was in a weeks time or for that matter, at any time. She had not dared to think about that aspect. When it came to it, could she really put him in that position? It would come when he felt the burning on his arm and the ugly inky smudge would crackle and burn and he would be in torment, and the mask – she had almost forgotten the mask – would emerge - though it would be nothing compared to what he would feel later. Would she wait until then to face it? As he rubbed his face against her cheek thoughtfully, she swallowed and spoke against his neck, just where his half-ring was.

'I could try.'

He froze, hardly daring to think, let alone breathe, then burst out excitedly 'My darling, it would work. I know it would.'

'If it doesn't, you will have a puppet, a dead person on your hands.'

'I love you. I will never let anything harm you.'

It was the day before Beltane when they found the potion missing.


	21. a good revelation is hard to find

Chapter 20:

'I love you. I will never let anything harm you.'

It was the day before Beltane when they found the potion missing.

Chapter 21

                                **A good revelation is hard to find**

'Someone will pay for this!' roared the potions master, pacing Dumbledore's carpet until she thought he might tread the centuries away from it's splendid surface. The person who occupied the office in which this thunderous outburst took place looked up from his papers and inspected the outraged professor solemnly and not without a great deal of sympathy. 

'My dear Severus,' he said, 'please calm yourself.'

'Calm myself Albus? Do you not realize that I am now in mortal peril or rather immortal peril? But it's worse, much worse than that.  When I refuse to give Elrin the _Patriarchium_, tonight, and believe me, I will, – there will be no holds barred about what is done to me, and what they will get out of me about the Order of the Phoenix, but more importantly, about you: how you think, what your powers are – everything. Voldemort has held back, because he knew how valuable I could be, but there will be no holding back this time: they will get every scrap out of me.'

Elrin, sitting on one of the chairs by the window, juddered inwardly at the thought.  

Severus, aware of her fear, twisted round to her, still angry, but holding himself in check, 'I am sorry Elrin. You aught not to be hearing this.'

'If it's the truth,' she replied, ' then I need to be aware of it. It won't help to leave me in ignorance.'

He looked at her in wonder for a moment; then jerked his head back to the headmaster. 

'And they, whoever they are, have the potion, though what they would do with a healing medicine, I cannot imagine, unless to heal the wounds I will inflict on them,' he said menacingly, placing his hands on the desk and looming over it while objects in Dumbledore's cabinets rattled faintly from his wrath. 'If they…..and he stopped.

The headmaster blinked. 'Go on,' said the old man carefully.

Severus stood upright and thrust his hair back impatiently. 'I don't even want to think about it.'

Elrin's face went nearly as white as the potion master's natural colour. Even she didn't want to know what he meant.  

_Should she take the Patriarchium? Should she risk not being returned to her normal state of freewill? Could she trust Severus to find the potion later?_

'Severus…'she began, hesitatingly. 

'No!' he roared, knowing immediately what she was thinking. 'Never,' and he came over to her, furious, 'Never in this world, not without an antidote.'

'It might be the only solution,' she said. 'There seems none other.'

'If I knew who it was,' he said in despair. 'I never trusted Lupin and yet…and yet..'

'Do you really think that he would endanger his chance of getting well?' she asked, not for the first time. 'This potion as far as he knows, might not last for long.'

They had been over this before, and appeared to be going round in circles, but like a dog chasing its' tail, could not seem to stop.

'But he was the only one,' he growled, ' besides us two.' 

 'You told me you had questioned him last night, and you said you couldn't find anything that he might have said either intentionally or inadvertently and in fact, he appeared quite horrified,' 

_She wondered how he had been with Remus. She hoped he had not been brutal. In this rage, he must have terrified the werewolf._

Elrin got up as she spoke, and went over to see Fawkes, who was wide awake. 

Severus turned back to Dumbledore. 

'It makes no sense,' he said, turning his maddened attentions to the headmaster, who looked worried, though he did not want the younger man to know the depths of his concern. It would not help him.

Fawkes tilted his head, while he enjoyed her stroking hands over his feathers.

'Fawkes, we are in a deep mire here,' and she told him about what had happened. 

'So, it was not Severus, and it was not you, and it seems unlikely to be Remus,' the great bird said, turning his great eye to her, and shifting on his perch, blinking comfortably. 'Which leaves a fourth person.'

'Who found out by what method?' she asked, puzzled. 'The two of them had already discussed this. As she looked deep into his great dark pupils, something shifted in her memory and she swung round to the two men.

'Severus, I – remember – when we were talking about it, we had the window open.'

'Because it was a warm night,' he finished for her.

'But it's a high wall there – well above the lake,' she objected.

'Someone on a broomstick,' he snarled and growled venomously '_Potter!'_

Dumbledore got there before Elrin did. 'My dear fellow….?'

Severus snorted loudly and then with the headmaster's arguments, gradually acceded to the unlikelihood of it being the young student. 'No, I suppose not. Someone else though. Someone up to no good. Why should someone be there at that particular time though? How would they know the right moment?'

She looked back at Fawkes and suddenly had a thought.

'They didn't,' she said.

'Why would someone be snooping round your office window?  To your knowledge, has anyone ever done that before? She asked.

'No,' he replied, puzzled. 'What would they get out of it if they remained outside? I am not in the habit of talking to mys…..' then caught her drift. 'They were listening, because you were there,' he said, and started to gallop with the thought. 'They were prying, wondering what we got up to in the privacy of my domain, and _happened_ to hear about the potion. It was _sheer_ luck.'

'If it was a student, though,' she said, 'how would they get in through the wards? I understand that only a mature wizard would be able to do that, not a student.'

'True, but if they had connections to someone who could…' Severus closed his eyes briefly as he internally cursed himself yet again for not putting greater wards on it.

'But this is not getting us anywhere,' he snapped. 'Someone has the potion,' and we can guess where it might be now and it is too late to make another. It takes some time to transfigure,' he explained to the headmaster.

'Well actually,' she began, and then hesitated, wishing she had not begun.

Both men turned their heads towards her and waited.

'I have a theory about that,' she said simply, hoping for it to remain just that, in her head.

'Go on,' said Dumbledore, stroking his beard as if he had all the time in the world. 

'It seems unlikely, idiotic even.'

'Nevertheless, I would like to hear,' said Albus.

She took a deep breath and snatching glances at her lover, slowly began to tell them her crazy idea.

'It came from the parchments,' she said, and Severus frowned and fixed his black eyes on her, intent on her words.

'It just seemed a coincidence, the wording of much of the manuscript…..and us…and the potion.'

Severus looked askance, and was baffled in the extreme. 'Us? You mean, you and I?'

'Yes. May I speak of the details of it, to Albus?'

'Of course,' he said abruptly.

'I know nothing of the herbs and the other ingredients, and the mixing, of course.'

Severus nodded slowly, still not knowing where this was going. The more she was aware of what she was going to say, the more she wanted to hide in the nearest pair of curtains. Albus just tilted his spectacles, to see her more clearly.

'I believe, that it is a prophecy. A prophecy about…. Please, I can't go on, it sounds ridiculous.'

'Go on Elrin,' said Severus, 'don't leave us there. If you are wrong, no matter.'

_He doesn't tell his students that._

'This is a dark day anyway,' he muttered. 

'The prophecy is about the union of a star and a serpent and I quote, though out of order:

_ "The rituals shall be half known and half concealed:_ _the Star and the Serpent are one and not two;_

_For I am divided for love's sake, for the chance of union.'_

'These lovers have special – energies – qualities,' she interrupted the text. As she said this, the potions master flopped down in one of the chairs, beginning to half listen, his heart somewhere with the missing potion and the felon who took it. 

'It occurred to me that the next information was particularly significant:

_"The Star comes from nowhere and the Serpent knows where he is. The work of the cauldron and the work of the wand; these he shall learn and teach but he may make severe the ordeals." _

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. He was obviously thinking what she was. Severus was however, oblivious and looked blank at both of them. Realizing she had to spell it out for him, she said, _'You are the Serpent, the Severe teacher of the cauldron and the wand. You know where and who you are.'_

 'It is a generalization of the serpent principle,' he said, not without a certain intellectual arrogance. 'It is in all mythology: a fundamental alchemical principle. 

'No doubt,' she countered. 'I assume that it works as a symbol – however.. maybe in this case, it has a dual meaning, as do many myths. Your complaint about me, was that I was irresolute. 'You were right,' she acknowledged across at him. 'I came into your world, and from your perspective, came into it from nowhere. I was a completely unknown element. It does seem a little incredible, but I could be….the Star – well, have some relationship to it…or…having the star principle.' 

_That was the bit that she found most difficult to believe, but the remembrance of the Star and the Wings above the Serpent Path was so strong. It was almost…..almost…._

He looked at her as if he was concerned about her mental state. Perhaps the strain of all this had taken its' toll. Dumbledore was humming very faintly underneath his breath. The next bit was embarrassing:

_"A woman shall awake the lust & worship of the Snake and let he be the adorant,_

_She is uplifted in thine heart; and the kisses of the Star rains hard upon thy body._

_Put on the wings, and arouse the coiled splendour within me: come unto me!"_

_Bear up in thy rapture for thou art the Lord of the Potion of Power."_

'And especially: 

"_Nor let the fools mistake love; for there are love and love_." 

'When two people – err – first have a relationship, sometimes it is not always with the fullest of love. Love can grow. Can grow into something much more powerful, much deeper.

 And then:

_"When it is not practiced, it turns out to be poison."_

'It could be,' she continued bravely,' What I mean to say, is that we two are related to the potion. What affects us, in our relationship, affects the potion.' 

_There she had got it out._

'Earlier, our relationship had not fully _developed_…so when Remus had the potion, it became poison, because we had not….err…got to that stage of development.

Severus began to listen intently. 

'It was only, when we….had reached a certain level or stage or peak…that the potion began to transform, and twice it did so after we had….done so. It seemed an odd coincidence.'

She looked at him, and he knew she was talking about the Serpent Path and the Wings and the Star.

_"Yet therefore in this knowledge is the knowledge of life and death," she added._

'It is not complete,' she said from her own knowledge,' but it is not far off.'

 To complete her explanation, she recited the last piece without any necessary clarification.

_"Yet there are masked ones: An evil shall arise, and bring fresh fever from the deeps._" 

Dumbledore was now tapping on his desk lightly, still humming. Her lover looked at her like he had never seen her before and she could see something slotting into place in his mind.

'It is not impossible,' he said, stunned. 'Albus?'

Albus smiled warmly at him. 'It fits my dear friend. Despite the apparent improbability of something so ancient having to do with present day events, it fits. And it came through you, your family. You are the guardian and the descendent of guardians.'

A knocking at the door interrupted them and Minerva bounced in. 'I am sorry headmaster – could I interrupt?' The deputy needed details on Beltane and complained that the castle was like a mad hive. 'This is just not wise Albus,' she protested. 'Not with this – evil – hanging over us.' 

_Tell us about it._

'We need to do this,' said the Head, gently, but unmoving. 'Everything goes ahead as planned.' 

 'And the wedding?' she asked.

'That is a decision for both of these two people.'

'Would you marry a dead man?' asked Severus of Elrin.

'Would you marry a dead woman?' she countered.

'No,' he said.

'Yes,' she replied, 'I would.'

They were standing there, yards away staring at each other, when there was another knock at the headmaster's door. Louder and sharper.

Dumbledore's expression changed, became very still and he drew a breath before he called 'enter.'

At the sight of the person who swept through the door, a familiar chill breeze floated through her body.

'This is a grand day for Beltane,' drawled the voice, looking around at the gathering, noting the lovers' auric tensions as well as the stiffened headmaster and rigid deputy, and drew energy and self-satisfied composure from it all. Jerking his black cloak back with his cane, he continued on alone, 'It is beautiful outside, the sun is shining; all is right with the world – don't you think? Mm?  

Severus sneered the best crooked smile he could manage in the circumstances.

'Lucius.'

'And congratulations seem to be in order, my dear Severus,' the erstwhile Slytherin purred, holding out his hand 

The potions master hesitated a fraction before meeting it with his own. 

_Such control._

'Good man, good man. Always did know what was good for you, eh?' and added, much to both their annoyance, 'I see that that is your mother's ring.' 

'Yes, it is,' said Severus in a cool voice. 'She was an amazing woman. I have given the other half to another amazing woman.'

'And you, my dear lady,' he smirked, as he thrust his arm forward to collect her hand and bent down to kiss it, 'are a _spectacular_ woman.'

_Deadly hypocrite. If it were not for Severus, I would slap you in the face or blast you into eternity, whichever was the most satisfying._

She gave him a cold leer, which he returned and which gave him a hot shiver of delight.

The potions master observed the malicious gaiety of the school governor and Lucius observed the professor's discomfiture with obvious delight, but did not see him grip the top of a nearby chair with ferocity since he had his back to him.

'Shouldn't you be getting ready, you two? He drawled with fake amiability, looking greedily at Elrin. 

Albus interrupted at this point, 'I think that that is a good suggestion Lucius. I suggest that you two go and do that very thing. Now.' he ordered, indicating with his eyes that the betrothed remove themselves. As they were about to go out of the door, Minerva spoke coldly to the governor in front of her, 'You may be interested to know, Lucius, that your son has been chosen by the Goblet of Beltane to be the May King. I have just come from the ceremony.'

Malfoy looked at the assembled group and solid pride leaked out behind his smug exterior. 'Good. Good. A worthy King indeed. And who, may I ask, is to be Queen?'

Minerva paused before replying, and the tension mounted, within Malfoy particularly. 

'Well?' he demanded, as if the dignified deputy were a junior professor.

She had her pleasure and was determined to enjoy it and out of her pursed lips said 'Hermione Granger.'

The assembly were delighted at the way his face turned pale, nearly rivalling his hair colour. He spat out, 'This is not possible!'

It was Minerva's turn to look smug.

_I wonder how Hermione is going to deal with this turn of events?_

Glad to get away and happy to leave Dumbledore to deal with the enraged Malfoy, they ran down the steps like escaping children, hand in hand.

'He has the potion,' he snarled after a short while as they walked down the long corridors, the blue sky outside and the sunshine pouring through the high windows onto both of them, mocking the darkness of their future.

'How do you know?'

'I could feel it. I know it, and he knows I know it,' he said grimly, holding her hand tight. 'It was all I could do to prevent myself from throwing myself at him.'

'I was tempted to kill him as well.'

'I don't want to be around him to give him the opportunity to request or demand to be my Man at Arms. I could not bear the idea, even for the sake of everything,' said Severus. 'There are limits to a man's honour.'

'Who is it to be?'

'Yes, who is it to be? Came a throaty voice from above them, and they saw the Bloody Baron swooping above them.

'I am not having one,' replied the professor looking irritated.

'Shame,' replied the Baron. 'If I could go outside the castle, I would offer my services my dear Snape.'

'Thank you,' muttered Severus, straining at Elrin's slowness, 'that would have been obliging of you.'

'You're welcome,' replied the ghost, apparently unaware of the sarcasm and left, diving through the wall in front of them.

'Do you really not want anyone?' she asked.

'The truth is that there is no one I would care to assist me. Only Albus would fit that role, and he is officiating. I would prefer to be unaccompanied.'

'What about family?'

'What about yours?' and he stopped in front of her, concerned.

'That's not really an option is it? But even if there was, I doubt if I would truly want to have to choose to invite them.'

'You are not…I mean, you were not close to them?'

'No, I wasn't close,' she said not without some sadness. Groups of students were milling past them, laughing and chattering, and he glared at them and they shifted quicker. The couple moved on to the dungeons to get out of the way of the general bustle.

'Severus, how are you about doing the ceremony in front of all these students?' she asked as more children skittered past them, carrying bundles of this and boxes of that.

'I will survive,' he grinned bleakly, snapping at a clumsy child, 'but - Who is to give you away, and who is to be your Lady of the Costumes?'

'Do you mean –  a Maid of Honour?'

'It is the equivalent, yes.'

'If you are not to have anyone, neither will I. '

'But…'

'I don't believe in the principle of being 'given away, but if I chose anyone it would be Albus too, and I even thought….ridiculous really, and it's a flight of fancy anyway….' And she laughed, wondering at herself laughing at this impossible time.

'Don't tell me, he said, 'Fawkes.'

'Correct Professor, point to Slytherin.'

'Only one?' he murmured.

'Two perhaps.'

'You are fairly tight-fisted with praise yourself, Madam.'

'And you,' she said, 'have not told me about your family.'

His mood altered hardly perceptibly, but enough for her to notice.

'There is no one,' he said shortly.

'No one you want, or?'

'There is no one left, but me. And soon,' he said sourly, 'there will be no one left at all.'

As he opened the door to his office, he plunged his hand in his robes for his wand and froze.


	22. are you holding your breath?

**Thank you my gorgeous readers and reviewers. You're comments have been fallen upon with a mix of glee and terror….Thank you so much for being with me so far (though not finished yet…hah hah!)**

I spent a little time researching rituals but personalized them and altered them to my own tradition and also made some up myself. You of course, are unlikely to know which is which, but never mind. Perhaps they are obvious. Hope no one is offended by my inventions. These rites are not intended to be accurate, though the principles they embody, do have, as far as I am concerned, a basis in wisdom.

**So I would like to invite you all to a wedding, and I expect your best robes, flowers in your hair and no naughty wand work :o)**

**Acknowledgements: **

Many thanks to Spider for reading these two chapters for me.  If there are any mistakes – they are not her fault….

Rickfan37 for the research info. About rubies and their supposed properties of warning of danger by darkening.

Idea from Smallville – The Early Years. Superman hovering over Lara.

Superwitch

Chapter 21

'There is no one left, but me. And soon,' he said sourly, 'there will be no one left at all.'

As he opened the door to his office, he plunged his hand in his robes for his wand and froze.

**Are you holding your breath? **

Chapter 22

Snapping into action after standing there for a moment or two, he unwarded his office, at the same time pushing her behind him and entered, wand at the ready. Papers were scattered everywhere – rolls of parchments and books littered the floor and he rushed over to an opened window to see a distant dot in the sky making its way towards the mountains. Cursing, he whirled round and charged into his own living room to seek the potions essays in the corner cabinet, rustling through them to find the parchments and just as importantly, the notes that were so precious. The top scrolls of the 3rd year essays had been rifled through, but whomever it was had given up on them and had not been thorough enough to find the manuscripts hidden below. It was close though: very close. The ruse of the ink blotched and occasionally barely illegible child's writing had fooled them into believing them to be insignificant in their hunt. Panting with relief, he stopped for a moment, arm steadying himself on the cabinet, hair over his face. 

Elrin had looked at the chaos and the invasion with dismay, but like him, was just glad that what was important had not been stolen. The second violation of his quarters was disturbing however.

'How many damn wards does it take!' he roared. 'And how come Lucius was in Albus' study when this must have been taking place? He must be behind this! I am not fooled by his alibi.' He looked at her, maddened, 'Not many wizards could break my seal. Lucius is one of them!'

'Could he teach someone something like this?'

'Not….generally no….but he could teach how to break _specific_ wards - if he had already done so himself.' he growled. 'It would not be easy, but _possible_, with considerable coaching. Right,' he said, moving from his supported position as if gathering himself up, 'You are going to Albus' quarters as soon as Lucius has gone, which one could assume would be about now, and prepare there. I will stay here.'

'There is no way I am going to,' she protested.

He half grinned, 'we cannot prepare together, remember? I was going to do so in his quarters and leave you here in mine; but I am certainly not going to allow that now. We have to switch.' 

She succumbed to the sense in it and he added, 'I wish you to take the manuscript and my notes with you so that it can be in Albus' care. No one alive is capable of breaking his wards. I will come and get you at the appointed time,' and he waited for her answer.

'We have hours yet, not for - ' she said.

'And we need all of them. First you need to rest, sleep.'

'_Sleep_?'

'You know it is part of the ritual. I will give you a little Sleeping Draught, just a couple of drops, if you feel you cannot do so.'

'Won't it knock me out, make me drowsy?'

'No, you should wake up refreshed.'

'Alright.'

'Then you know about the cleansing ritual in the evening, don't you?'

'Yes,' she replied automatically, as he had schooled her in the rituals carefully. 

'You can use Albus' magnificent bathroom. I will do exactly the same here, and I will definitely need a draught myself,' and he moved back into the office to fix her a tiny phial of potion. 

'But then you are unprotected.'

'They will not be back now we know, and I will add some new complicated wards with bells on. Henrietta can look out for me if you wish. I will set her on guard.'

She looked at him a moment. 'Oh, your owl, yes, that sounds like a good idea.'

'Would you like me to tell Xiomara that you have gone to the headmaster's so she can bring your clothes after your cleansing?'

'I will tell her myself on my way,' she said, 'thank you.'

'Are you alright?' he asked quietly, coming closer.

'I am fine,' she said. 'I'm….nervous….but fine.'

He took her face in his hands and bent and kissed her gently.

'I love you.'

'I love you.'

'I will see you when the time comes,' he said.

She lay in the plump and snug bed in Albus' guest room, staring at the ceiling wide-awake and worrying. How long would it take before Voldemort reacted to Severus' refusal? Not long she suspected. Malfoy would dissapparate almost straight away to tell his master and Voldemort would rage and instantly desire revenge. She shivered, pulling the sheets up around her neck, their smell different, nice, soothing, but different. How could she sleep even with the drops from the potion? The bed seemed enormous; she wanted Severus' comforting arms and legs around her, his hair in her face, his feet rubbing her calves. 

Albus had been welcoming. She wasn't sure how he would react to an invasion of his private quarters of a woman, but he was fine and totally at ease. He had told her that he had much to do that afternoon with the preparations, but that she was to make herself at home, ignore the comments of the mirror on the left in her room and do exactly as she wanted. If she required anything, she could pull a long thick cord hiding behind the door and someone from the kitchens would come and see what she needed. As her first task was to sleep, the massive curtains needed to be closed and that was a job for a wand, so he did that for her, wished her a peaceful sleep and bowed out leaving her in the dim light with some very quiet, drifting kind of music, a circulating sound of soft drums which oozed into her body and her brain, gradually lulling her worries into silence. 

She was lying on cold stone, her arms rigid out beside her: on them a vice-like grip from some restraining material. Pressed against her body was the damp and the dripping dark while about her some grim muttered echo sounded close, too close. Drenched in pain, her head rocked from side to side. She felt that she had been there for hours, maybe days. Stiffly she tried to look about, but could only see a chink of light under a door some way away and moving wasn't much better since she could not move anything below her neck. Pain thrust its way through her body, from where she was not sure, and the shock and the intensity shattered her sensitivity and she cried out silently, '_Severus! Where are you?_'

Laying her head back onto the unyielding stone, she imagined seeing him above her. Then twitched as she realized that he was indeed above her, looking at her down from several feet with his arms crossed as if he were contemplating. The potions master was hovering horizontally, as if mirroring her own body, his black robes almost touching her as they fell down around him. There was no movement and no sound from him otherwise.

'Severus…help me!'

There was no response, but the quiet calm of his meditation, his eyes glowing black and deep, his head tilted forward in loving attention and his strange levitation bewitched her into quiet. She stared at him for a while, contemplating him contemplating her and then whispered 'my darling….I need you.'

In her horror she saw him gradually disappear and awoke in sweat in Albus' guest room, panting, clutching the bedclothes. It took her a while to calm down. 

_I thought I was supposed to awake refreshed?_

Gradually she drifted off again and slept deeply and well. When she awoke again it felt much later and there was no light sneaking through the curtains.

Asking the time of a clock at Dumbledore's was a risky affair, but she tried it.

'Well, it depends on what you consider the right time to be,' it answered, pleased to be able to disconcert a visitor. 'Time would become meaningless if there were too much of it,' it continued. 

'Just tell me what hour it is,' she snapped, not serene after dreaming of being strapped down in a dungeon somewhere with no apparent rescue in sight.

'Well, if you are going to be huffy!'

'I shall rearrange your insides!' she threatened.

'Ooo…' he mocked.

The mirror behind her bed told her calmly and firmly that it was time for her Cleansing Ritual and a couple of large candles in the room automatically lit for her.

'How do you know that?' 

'It's my job,' he said gruffly, but not without kindness.

Despite the dream, the second sleep had done the trick and she did feel considerably better and quite active, so she leaped out of bed, clutching her bathrobe quickly so that the clock and the mirror would not see her skimpy attire. Pulling the rope, a house-elf appeared whom she did not know and she asked – first of all if Winky was all right, and then for some tea and sandwiches. 

'Winky is busy Madam Elrin,' she piped.

'Of course she will be, how silly of me. It's a frantically busy day. Everybody is busy. Except me, and – Professor Snape,' and then sighed.

The elf looked at her as if she was barmy and popped away.

She thought that Severus would probably be indeed be going barmy himself, not being able to be part of the ceremony in his usual capacity, rounding up students, barking at them, protecting them, harassing them. He hated the role, but he would be lost without it.

The bathroom was indeed magnificent. She could only reach it via the same kind of stairs that led to Albus' office, as she stepped onto the stairs, they began to move in a circular motion upwards, and it was quite some minutes before it stopped at a huge door. By the window, she could see that she was high up in the school. Inside, it was more like an underwater cavern. A vast array of mirrors at different angles and candles of different sizes surrounded the huge pool. There was a peacefulness there that was difficult to define. It oozed from the walls, was in the air and insinuated a subtle reassurance into her body and her mind. It reminded her of the unicorn and oddly enough, there was a small low relief sculpture of one over the door, as it galloped through some trees under a moon. Under her bare feet, she squidged her toes into the soft deep carpet as she approached the pool and as if on cue, the host of candles lit themselves so that the room was lit with a golden radiance, glowing from the mirrors. Managing to turn on the gigantic baroque taps, they soon roared hot water out to fill what seemed more like a lake. However, it didn't take long and experimenting with one button, she found that it shot a spray of tight wild roses out into the water and they swirled and settled onto the surface. Throwing off her bathrobe she examined herself in the mirrors that appeared to have a non-steaming spell on them. She hoped they would keep any rude remarks to themselves. 

_She didn't look too bad. _

As she lowered herself in the blissfully hot water, the roses nudging up against her, and the smell of frankincense and lilac that she had put in enveloped her in their strength and tranquillity. It felt like such a luxury to be bathing like this, as if it were full of asses' milk and she the Queen of Sheba or was it Cleopatra? 

From a table nearby she checked what she needed – a bowl of clear clean water, some oil of myrrhand – that was it.

_Would they have a marriage night? Was she preparing for death? He surely would be._

These thoughts insinuated themselves into her mind while she went through her preparations and tried to ignore the pain of them as much as possible. Her ache for him grew more as she went through the ritual she had learned the week before, which almost seemed a long time ago.

Finding that she had to address Deep Magick, she found that she could do so fairly easily by remembering that it had been that Source that had brought her here, had put them together, had, through the Phoenix culture, ultimately translated the manuscript and transubstantiated the potion.

'Deep Magick,' she invocated rather self-consciously, then glanced at the mirrors and wondered if they were going to laugh or scorn her. 'The Source of all that is….bless my feet, that I may follow carefully along the path of the wise.' She had to wash her feet while saying this and make a little sign on it with her finger.

'Bless my sexuality, without which none would tread the path of the wise,' and she marked herself accordingly. She thought of him while she did so, and an ache tore through her and she had to stop for a little while to recover.

'Bless my Solar Plexus, that I may have mastery as I tread the path of the wise,' marking herself below her breasts.

'Bless my heart that beats with pain and compassion while travelling upon the path of the wise.' Over her heart she traced a tiny image and thought of his own heart pressed up against hers. A tear fell down her cheek and plopped into the water and she brushed it away impatiently.

'Bless my nose, that I may breathe in your essence within the wind, while I travel upon the path of the wise.' She thought of his essence, the enigmatic presence of him, the magnetic strength of whatever it was that expressed the core of his being: the dark side of him and the hidden light of him. She thought of his scent and the headiness of it made her feel dizzy, the smell of his hair and his skin and she thought of his nose, large and demanding and brushing softly against her skin. She touched her own small nose with water.

'Bless my eyes that I may see with clarity all the choices that you present me with upon my journey along the path of the wise,' and as she touched her eyelids, all the while his eyes haunting her from behind them. She didn't think that she should be thinking of him alone. Perhaps she should be thinking of higher things, but the pull towards him was like the pull from a drug, insistent, intense and endless.

'Bless my ears that I may hear the voices of wisdom while I travel along the path of the wise.' She tried not to think of the sound of his voice ranging from purring lovingness in her ear to his whip cracking sneers and his almighty roars. She shivered with the vibrations that echoed through her mind.

'Bless my lips that I may speed through the dark night of the soul and utter the sacred ecstasy while I travel along the path of the wise.' and as she touched her lips with water, she thought of the Serpent sex and their own ecstasy and of his lips, warm and urgent and calling her name.

'Bless my mind with revelation and comprehension of all things while I travel along the path of the wise,' she intoned. That was something that she felt that she certainly needed as she touched her forehead.

'May Deep Magick with its' power and beauty bless my Self as I travel along the path of the wise,' she said, raising her hands above her head. And those I love she added silently.

Finally, as she traced a tiny mark on each palm, she finished with: 

'Bless my hands that I may skilfully do your work as I travel along the path of the wise.' 

Slowly, gracefully, she sank under the water, and then slowly rose again. As she sat up, she was acutely aware of how her previous life seemed an eternity ago, another world, as if it had never existed, or existed in her imagination only. She tried to imagine what her life would have been like without coming here, without Severus, without Fawkes and the parchments and without Dumbledore. Without the castle and its' maddening corridors and weird staircases, without Hagrid and Winky and Dobby and Xiomara and Filius and prim Minerva: even without Lucius, although the thought of Voldemort was going a little too far. Without him life would indeed be wonderful, but she wondered if it would be the same. Would everyone stand out in such beautiful colours without him? Would they have come together without his machinations? Would they be the wonderful people and other beings that they were without this menace? Without the dislike of her previous life, would she been pulled here? Without that irritation, without that friction, she might have sunk without trace in the mire of boredom and survival, doing what other people wanted, no, demanded of her. Living a corpse life, a half-life. Wondering at Severus' call for her and maybe her own subconscious desire for him, as she had crossed some ocean of time or space to join with him, the ways of Deep Magick were indeed mysterious and wonderful. She wondered, not without a sense of disturbance, what it had planned for their future or did they plan and it carry out their deepest intentions? She would have to ask Fawkes about that. 

Later, after she had finished her ablutions and was drying her hair in the guestroom, she heard a knocking and Xiomara entered, carrying a huge bundle before her that presumably contained her dress and a wide-eyed small student walked behind her with other various items. Thanking her, she turned to Elrin, who suddenly felt small and vulnerable. The arrival of the costume that she had ordered days ago heralded the reality of her situation.

'You look scared,' announced Xiomara. 'I'm not surprised, tackling all this on your own,' she said as she plumped herself down on the bed. Elrin wasn't sure exactly what she was referring to, since she could not know about Severus' crisis, but she inwardly acknowledged that she did feel isolated, and doubted her ability to be equal to such an enormous event including the looming aftermath. She was glad to see the Quidditch teacher who had arrived with a breath of energy and humour and a welcome freshness of femaleness at this particular time. 

'It's good to see you,' Elrin said smiling, 'I haven't had the chance to speak to you for ages.'

Sending to the kitchens for some refreshment, though Elrin ate little, they chatted on about things, gossip about Filius finding a partner who was at least three feet higher than he, about Hagrid's new pet escaping, and Ron's blunder in the Great Hall. 'Poor lad,' she said, 'in front of Hermione too.'

'Oh, you noticed that too!' Elrin replied, laughing. It was a while since she had laughed properly and it felt good.

'Gosh, yes,' said Xiomara, 'I've been watching him suffer for ages. Such fun,' and she sniggered.

They spent some time giggling and discussing the ceremony, and previous Beltanes, and then her outfit. Xiomara was useful with the wand when it came to her hair.

'I'd like it glossier, sleeker. In the night air, it will just frizz up. Anything you can do?'

'Of course,' she replied, and in between trying to remember a new spell for this very thing and some mutterings, Elrin's long hair ended up having waves and curls at the ends right down her back, smooth and sleek, which she said, was almost permanent. 'Tell me if you want to change it,' she said. 

'I can't imagine it, but thanks.'

'You are going to have it down, not up?'

'Yes, I think it will go better with the dress.'

'Good.'

'I prefer it down too.'

As she spoke, she peeked out of curtains to see activity from over the other side of the lake; figures dashed to and fro, a great fire lit, like bonfire night. Her stomach turned over.

'You'll be fine,' said Xiomara, distracting her by getting her to put her dress on since she already had her underwear on.

'Is it time?' she asked, her breath short.

'Yes. Let's get this outfit sorted before Severus comes to get you.'

She wasn't sure if she wanted him that minute, or that he would never come. The two seemed compatible in her head.

Standing there in her petticoats she waited patiently until Xiomara had lifted the dress out of the bundle and the burning red shock of colour emerged, filling the room with its' power.

'In my world, it would generally be white.' Never before had she referred to her previous life but Xiomara was nonchalant about it. 

'Really? Well, the May Queen is in white.' 

_Wonder how Hermione is doing? Is she as nervous as I am? Probably not, she is quite a self-possessed girl._

She allowed her companion to lift it over her and fit the bodice at the back. The bodice itself was a curved structure of crimson antique lace and velvet and tied with laces at the front. It was the only intricate part of her outfit, as the rest of it was a sweeping simplicity in smouldering red, the long skirt part of it falling like water around her and behind her as a long pointed train. She still had the half-ring round her neck.

'You need to wind that round your wrist when you have your gloves on.'

'Then it would leave my neck bare,' she replied.

'Severus will bring something for you,' Xiomara muttered, adjusting the skirt in a little.

'How do you know?'

'It's customary.'

'Oh, what about the gloves, where are the gloves?' said her friend as she dug into 

the bag of items as she retrieved long gloves, ending over her hands in a point, which echoed the pointed v of the bodice. 'Shoes, shoes,' she muttered and found them too, long pointed Victorian style shoes with a curved heel.

'What have we forgotten?'

'Xiomara,' she hesitated,  'would you do the make up spell that you did for me, you know when, only not the vamp look I asked for?' This was the only time she had referred to something specific when she had turned against them all, and Xiomara had borne her cruelty. 

'Of course, a more natural look then, perhaps with a little extra sheen – for the night lighting and to fit with the red?' 

'You do what you think is best,' she laughed, relieved that the Quidditch teacher was not angry with her about it. Whenever she remembered, she looked upon that episode with shame and revulsion.

There were still some things to do to the outfit, making changes here and there, a tuck here and a loosening there, but at last Elrin stood before her ready. 

'You look terr…'

Then Xiomara gasped in horror at her forgetfulness and dived down and opened another package that had fallen on the floor. Out of it she produced the cathedral veil with its' ancient gold circlet which was plain and dark and thin in places to hold the acres of the burning red silk that looked fragile and soft enough to fall apart. The endlessly long veil looked almost as transparent as Nearly Headless Nick but like him, seemed to have a mind of its own and it was just as Xiomara fussed to put the finishing arrangement to it, that they both heard a booming sound on the outside door: not the guestroom door, but Albus's main door.

'Oo,' giggled her companion, 'Shall I hide?' 

'No,' said Elrin, regaining her composure, though scared now beyond reason. 

_Why be scared? You're crazy. It's only him._

She lifted her skirts up and held the train and the bottom of the veil in her arms and slowly went out into the office taking her time: she felt like a goddess in a haze of deepest fire.

He knocked again, 3 times. 

Xiomara made it down the stairs to call 'Who is there?' her words correct for the ritual and swiftly arranged her train and veil for her again in front of the closed door.

'It is I, Severus Snape who has come to seek his love.' The formal words boomed through the door and sent her breathless leading her to rearrange her veil though it was unnecessary. Aware that she was biting her lip, she tried to calm her breathing.

'Who is your love? Her companion asked.

'My love is Elrin Danse.'

'There is no-one here by that name,' recited Xiomara.

'My love is there. I will break the door down.'

'Break the door then, there is no-one here.'

'I demand that you hand my love over to me. I will not move from here until she is mine. I speak for the last time.'

The hairs on the back of her neck rose as he spoke. Although they were words of ritual, she did not doubt, by the timbre of his voice, that he would do so if necessary. Xiomara then opened the door with a flourish.

He stood there stunned and she in turn was stunned. His costume was a dark, dark green; a supremely tailored version of his normal frockcoat, elegantly buttoned and high necked. Over it was an elaborate cloak, which fell softly and completely to the floor and moved as he moved. Partially hidden underneath it was an elaborately decorated scabbard presumably to hold his wand. Instead of his normal shoes, he was wearing black boots and almost irrelevantly, she noticed that his hair had been trimmed. He looked so very much himself, standing there in all his power and presence, which was powerful enough, but he also looked as if he had stepped down from Mount Olympus.  Instinctively, her aura flared to greet his and then it was that she was aware of her own pure power. 

'I am she for whom you are looking,' she managed to say eventually as they spent some time just looking upon one another. Their lone audience was beginning to wonder if they would continue with the customary words.

'Lift your veil. I would see you.'

'Lift it yourself, if you would see.'

Thereupon he strode forward and his physical reality entered her senses. A flash of how he strode towards her when she had been sorted into Slytherin went through her mind and she felt not dissimilarly now, just before she fainted. He lifted her veil and threw it back

'Do you wish to be taken?"

It took her more than a second or two to reply, and for a moment she could see what might have been fear flash through his black eyes as he searched her face. Elrin however, held herself in dignity, though her impulse was to want to reach out and hold him tight.

'I do wish it.'

'You are a vision to me,' he said.

'And so you are to me,' she replied.

Xiomara shook her head. That last bit wasn't in the ritual.

They stood so long looking at one another that she decided that it was time for her departure and slipped out of the door and left them to silence.

As he stared at her fixedly, she realized that something was different and she waited. He kept his gaze on her, until she succumbed to ask if anything was amiss. A slow smile spread across his face, a deep strange glow that filled her with happiness despite her apprehension.

'I am no longer a dead man,' he articulated slowly. 

'Severus….please tell me what is going on?' she was halfway between some kind of unknown joy and irritation. In answer, he pulled out a tightly wrapped blue-black handkerchief and gently spread it out to reveal the phial that he had used for Remus, crystal clear and beautiful, gleaming in the light.

'I thought it had gone with the jar. I must have, in my excitement, put it in my robes, where I carry emergency potions.

'You carry potions around with you?' she asked irrelevantly, still in some kind of shock.

'I do, always.'

She stared at it stupidly, then looked up into his eyes. 'You want me to take the _Patriarchium_.' It was not a question, more a statement. She had agreed before about taking it, but now it was the reality before her, and the sudden turn around made her sick with dizziness and the thought of taking it made all the warmth in her body depart. 

_At least he would be safe. He was out of immediate danger._

Now fear for him had transferred to disquiet about herself. He observed her whitened face and quickly sat her down in one of the chairs. She felt the familiar comfort of his dark presence as he bent over her. Instinctively, she lifted her arms up around his neck and pulled him down to her, his robes falling on her, breathing in his familiar scent as they crushed together, the sombre red fire and the dark green.

'My darling, I'm afraid,' she whispered.

'I will do nothing without your say so,' he said softly, rocking her, murmuring something underneath his breath.  She lay there on his chest, he uncomfortable but not minding it and she knowing it was uncomfortable, but accepting his discomfort because she needed him right there that minute. She could feel the half-ring on his collar rubbing on her forehead as his lips moved.

'What are you saying?' she enquired.

'Just healing words, comfort words.'

From someone whose words could easily cut and dice, slice and maim, this sentence shot through her body, and she held him tighter and felt the gradual rise of courage. At last, she moved. 'I'll be fine,' she said, shifting.

Holding her by the shoulders, he searched her face.

'Elrin, I don't want you to make the decision until you feel able. I will not speak about the options. We both know what they are. Tell me what you want to do, what you want me to do. I am in your hands. I will do whatever you desire. I love you whatever you choose. Just tell me when the time comes and I will do your bidding.'

'Let us go then, 'she said, chin raised. He lifted her up by the hand and then paused. 

'I have something for you,' and he dug into an inner pocket and lifted out another silk piece of material to reveal a necklace and earrings. She took the necklace carefully, and noted with a smile tiny thin golden wings outstretched reaching out as part of the chain and in the centre was a radiant star and reaching up to it was a writhing serpent, its' forked tongue licking the star: a blood red ruby glowing as it's eye. The earrings were six-rayed rubies as stars.

'See,' he said as he went forward to put the necklace round her neck since it was the only way to get it on. His face close to hers, he murmured, 'my life is yours as the serpent belongs to the star. That fact is unalterable whatever happens. I would not change it. See how it glows a strong and vibrant now. It knows it is home. It can warn you of danger if it deepens in colour and vibrates. And that is not all it does. Press the ruby in the matrix here and it will summon me to you. Wherever you are, wherever I am, I will come.' 

'It's so beautiful,' she said, awestruck. It reminded her of an incident that had happened earlier.

'Severus, I saw something while under the Sleeping Draught,' she said as she stopped to put the earrings on.

For a moment, his face clouded and he halted and turned to her rapidly. 'What happened?'

'I was imprisoned in a dungeon, very uncomfortable, very real. Then – I called for you, and you – hovered above me – and then you disappeared.'

'Are you sure? Was that all?'

'Yes, why?

'Lucius. As if he wasn't doing enough harm already. I – was making the spell for the necklace and he must have been tapping into you at the same time. You saw me because I was working on it. He could not actually harm you, and now I will always be there on that astral plane to protect you. He was just lucky because I was working on this.'

'Well,' she said, 'I have something for you.' His face registered nothing, but she could see that this was an event that he was not used to. Finding the box on the table where she had left it, she gave it to him. His hands felt clumsy opening the tiny box and as he was opening it, she spoke slowly.

'There seemed very little that I could give you, and I realized that there was only one thing that I could give, and that was myself. I have little else.' He took the ring out of the box and gasped in delight at it.

'It is beautiful,' he said. 

'Periot I understand,' she said, 'an Infinity Poison Ring. Apparently, the gem was found in a meteorite 300 years ago and was made into this ring. I had help from Albus in choosing it. I don't understand why a green jewel is an ancient symbol of the sun, but that is what he told me, and that it is said to bring peace and purity of soul and to help protect against evil.' 

_As if it could possibly protect him against the most malevolent wizard in existence._

He opened the intricately carved ring with its' green Periot jewel on the outside and inside was a small lock of her hair nestling inside. He half smiled at the thought that she probably did not realize that to give such an item of herself was a token of love indeed as he then had the power to use it magically, for good or ill.

'Thank you,' he said, pushing it onto his right hand, bowing. Right away he took her veil and placed it gently back over her face, shrouding her vision in a red mist, saying,

'I think we should go now. Apparently we are the May Spirit Couple this year. Minerva has just informed me.'

She looked alarmed. 'Who are they?'

'A mature bonded couple to complement the youth of the May King and Queen. We need do nothing very much. I had thought to avoid it.' 

_I bet you did._

'We're not bonded yet.'

'Not officially, but Minerva said that we would be perfectly satisfactory since privately we are. Do you want me to refuse?' he asked.

'No,' she said. 

_Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb._

'In that case, I have my charger waiting to carry you off, and if I am not mistaken, the festival is waiting for us.' As they went through the door, she said looking back to him, 'I thought that was a figure of speech.'

The crisp cool of the evening was like a shock to her as they made their exit from the main door and a strong smell of hawthorn and bonfire permeated the still air. It was dark but the entrance was lit with flares and in the flickering light of them, stood a unicorn. Gasping with delight, she rushed, if one could be said to rush in an attire like hers to its side. It looked exactly like the one that took them out of the forest. It _was_ the one and it seemed to recognise her. Nuzzling her with its soft velvet muzzle it appeared quite eager, and she had to be careful not to be caught with its horn in its excitement but she buried her head in its silky mane, smelling the sweetness of it. She turned to Severus. 'Is this your charger?' she giggled. She had imagined he would have had Aelfesdine, though they would not have found it easy with that temperamental animal. 

'Yes,' he smiled. 'It offered, so I accepted. Through Hagrid of course. So, madam, if you are ready, would you like to mount?'

She was so thrilled. 'Will he take two?'

'Easily.'

So he lifted her up first so that she was sidesaddle, though they would be bareback, her dress taking some positioning. All of the veil as well as the train needed to be hoisted to the other side so that it fell below on the ground. 

'It will not tread on it, do not fear,' he said, arranging it as best he could. Then he jumped up behind her and she felt the warmth and solidity of his body pressed against hers while he held her firmly in position. It was such a pleasure to incline back into him and since he was not steering, could feel him enclosing her in his arms, her thighs close to his and leant back into his chest. Gradually, she noticed little flickering lights on the ground that showed the pathway for the unicorn, and discovered that they were some kind of wood being and could hear their chattering if she listened hard enough. 

Gradually they wound their way round towards the festival ground. Thoughts threw themselves up in her mind as she knew she had to make a decision and quickly too.

_Could she trust Severus to nullify the poison? What if it went wrong? What if she never returned to her own freewill, her own essence, her own choices? What if she remained a child, a servant, a Golem, someone whom Severus learned to despise, and he fell out of loving her? What if he began to hate her, to hate what he had made? What if in anger, he returned to being – she couldn't even continue the thought. What - almost worse still - what if she started to hate him, since she could not say what she wanted to say if it contravened his opinion or wishes. There could be no denial from her, no refusal, no protest, no personality away from his approval, and without which she could not affirm herself. She would be little more than a dummy and she would be lost in this world or another, adrift. He was powerful, powerful enough to trample her opinions into the ground at this time, let alone without her own self-determination. It was only his love that dealt gently with her as well as her own growing sense of ability and self-possession._

She clung to him in her panic, but the gentle tempo of the steed gradually soothed her fears, the cool night swirling its' summer scents around them as they established the slow, unicorn rhythm: the movement of poetry and midnight songs and loving kindness and it was if the unicorn spoke to her in her anguish.

_And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well._

As they moved around the lake, she could see the school rising up behind it, tall and magnificent and glowing warm from the lights just beyond her sight behind trees and bushes. From the glow in front, she could hear the sounds of laughter and music and the smell of the bonfire even more strongly now, and still the scent of hawthorn blossom haunted the air around them. She wondered how Severus was feeling, his chest warm against her, upright, and steady, both their bodies shifting together with the musical gait of the unicorn. He wouldn't know whether he was going to live or die, whether she would refuse the _Patriarchium_, and would have to refuse it on her behalf, and refuse to poison her as well, or whether she would accept it. His openness in allowing her complete freedom to choose, not to try and persuade her, melted her and she squeezed him again.

'Are you alright?' he asked, and she could feel the arch of his nose against her cheek and his breath blowing lightly against her silky veil.

'I'm fine,' she said.

 Without moving his head, he growled, 'Don't lie to me.' 

She smarted with the rebuke, but noted the justice of it, then asked him if he was all right. 

_How would a man going not only to his wedding but the gallows feel? _

'I am going to my destiny. Why would I not be alright?' 

_He is so formal. He is so confident, so certain, so much at home with his honour, with his beliefs. This is his world: this is not my world: I am a newcomer, a 'stranger in a familiar land.' _

The sounds of festivities were suddenly upon them and a blazing hot light revealed the vegetation around them and a multitude of dark shapes in front, and before she knew what was going on they were within the perimeter, elves moving aside so that they could enter the circle in a blaze of red and dark green and glowing white.


	23. let me sing among the stars

Chapter 22

The sounds of festivities were suddenly upon them and a blazing hot light revealed the vegetation around them and a multitude of dark shapes in front, and before she knew what was going on, they were within the perimeter, house-elves moving aside so that they could enter the circle in a blaze of red and dark green and glowing white.

                                  **Let me sing among the stars **

                                                                                                           Frank Sinatra

Chapter 23

It seemed that a vast array of students, house-elves and teachers had formed several rows deep in a huge circle with a bonfire in the middle. One half of the circle was composed of the women and the girls and the other of the men and the boys. Among them were the house-elves, who too had separated into genders, their eyes luminous, following every movement of the arrival of the couple.  On one side to the right as they entered the circle was a high dais with a stunning display of white flowers, trails of garlands and hawthorn. Wilhelmina Sprout had done them proud, and Elrin spotted her at the end of the women's component by Hagrid, standing only as high as his belt. Both had wide smiles. Those on top of the dais were not smiling however and she presumed that the two dramatic figures seated there were the young May King and Queen who had already been crowned. Draco, looking every inch the god in his bright green robes sat rather indolently on a throne, a crown of leaves hovering above his head. Elrin hardly recognized Hermione  by his side, beautiful in pure white with a high crown of flowers above her. She was very poised and gave the impression of being determined to do a good job despite her apparent irritation at being paired with the blonde Slytherin and it was she who stood up to welcome them.

'Who goes there?' she asked in her most aloof manner. 

_Perfect for royalty._

'The May Spirit Couple,' replied Severus, his voice booming from behind Elrin. 'Bow,' he whispered and they did so, the unicorn quiet and patient underneath them.

'Enter into the kingdom of the May King and Queen, O May Spirit Couple. May all here learn from your wisdom,' said the Gryffindor and she sat down, nodding to Dumbledore. 

_Word perfect of course and no hesitations. Hardly surprising though. She was not a young girl any more, and even when she was, she was bright and confident: a powerful contrast to Draco, who, though not stupid, had neither her cleverness nor her own brand of perception._

Elrin heard a little group near them stifle giggles and she could feel Severus swing his head round and it stopped immediately. She imagined his glare and their subsequent discomfort with gratification. It was a spectacle that she understood was not repeated very often and the youngsters there were extremely lucky to be a witness to this. 

_Hell, what was she saying:  she was lucky to witness this. What would Aunt Dorothy say…? She'd be dead of shock no doubt._

'We have a ceremony as well as a coronation feast today,' said Albus as he raised his voice, not needing the use of a sonorous spell, and walked slowly into the centre by the fire and looked around at everyone. His formal robes and high ceremonial hat made the thin old man seem physically larger than he was, or was it that he was larger? His presence seemed to fill the arena, and there was complete silence but for the snapping fire, as if the stars overhead were listening. 

'To witness a ceremony of the joining of two people in marriage, and especially this couple at this particular time,' he boomed, 'is to consider yourselves extremely fortunate on this our Fire Festival Day. This is the night when we go from darkness to light; when you may realize your potentiality for Deep Magick, represented here by this fire. Take heed and remember it well. Now, I am going call on forces to cleanse this area and witness this joining. It is required that nothing of evil intent can step inside this ring during the ceremony, and I would suggest that you examine your own integrity, your own motives, your own conscience at this time in order to enjoy the sights and words that you hear spoken tonight,' and he then moved towards the periphery of the circle. 

'I can see Lucius,' she whispered, almost without moving her lips.

'Yes,' he muttered into her ear, 'the bastard cannot affect the ceremony itself. Bravo Albus.'

'Examining his integrity do you think?' she giggled under her breath.

'Examining his standing with Voldemort,' he replied cynically.

'What do we do now? Do we get off?'

'No. We do nothing. We attend.'

The headmaster stood in dignity while all hushed into complete silence, then slowly raised his hand and called out in a booming voice that appeared not to be possible coming from such a frail figure, and it seemed as if he became larger still. 

'On this Day of Power,' he began as he faced north, 'I call upon Deep Magick's powers of earth: all bodies that are mortal – flesh and stone and plant. All things that can be touched and damaged and mended, hear me in the name of Deep Magick. As he spoke there was a rumble above them in the night sky that altered quickly into a creeping roar that boomed into a thunder-crack, and there were not a few students who jumped and held onto someone else. The house-elves and Dumbledore were the only ones to appear totally at peace with the wrathful noise. 

I call upon Deep Magick's powers of water,' he said as he faced west, 'all those who belong to the astral plane, our brothers and sisters the wood beings, all elves and ghosts. I call upon our psychic sensitivities, our loves, our hates, our daily lives, our choices, our imaginations, our abilities, our aspirations and our companions,' and as he spoke he threw up his arm and from the star-brushed sky fell snowflakes into the silence, soft and pure white like a blessing over the company. No one brushed them off and they were allowed to settle onto hair and robes for a moment, before they shrivelled and vanished. Elrin noticed Xiomara standing opposite her and smiled. 

Facing the east, the wizard called out, 'I call upon Deep Magick's power of air. All the powers of inspiration and creation and wisdom within ourselves and the powers that assist all to their destiny, like the Phoenix birds, the Centaurs and the Unicorns, and where lives the powers of Dark Magic that deny it.' In that moment he made a movement with his hand and a cool breeze spun round the company into a soft whirlwind, which threw his beard wide as well as their robes and everyone's hair in the gust that whipped through them. A strange sound accompanied it, an echo of a potent world, a powerful world, a wide open secret. She shivered and it wasn't because her veil lifted up and streamed out in the air, but because of the indirect mention of Voldemort and she could see Lucius twitch and blink although he did not move from where he was standing. Draco, she could see, kept glancing at his father when he was not watching and she felt the sadness for his present and his likely future.

Finally as he faced the south, Albus then called out to Deep Magick's power of fire for 'all the strength of the unfathomable wisdom that is hidden within all our lives and is the source of the four directions, all our powers and of all that is wondrous.' 

Never had Elrin heard so much come out of Dumbledore's mouth in public. Then from the bonfire, the old man drew out a skein of fire and threw it high and wide over the assembly which then transformed into something like glittering white-gold dust, for she could not name it or describe it. It fell on them in slow motion, sparkling and dazzling, intoxicating the company, the faces around glowing and child-like, even the adults. The Master Wizard, for he was that: not just the headmaster, not just Albus, not just an old man, seemed to be part of something deeply profound, something more intoxicating than she could ever have imagined: something in the nature of the fire. She even caught an expression on Lucius' face, but he was wiping it away angrily, frightened and irritated. She could almost hear him grumble something about the old man's nonsense he was so readable.

The old wizard spoke again with his arms high, 'I call on that divine mystery of Deep Magick that unites all things, where time itself is not and nothing is separate: that loves all things and creates all things, to anoint this space of safety, to cleanse this sacred spot and protect the intentions and the integrity of these two people, so that their joining is sacred to the highest principle in the universe.' 

It was if she were in a dream, a rhythmic, hypnotic, sensuous dream. It was if she could feel presences within the circle and those without it. Those without were from the forest: dark glittering eyes of unhappiness and jealousy shifting from tree to tree, peering over the distance to the ceremony. Within the circle were company she could not actually see, but sense. There was an impression of scarlet and deep song, and she realized suddenly, that they reminded her of Fawkes. It would have been good to have had him there. She missed him, although those few she had opened her heart to and cared for were already here. With these presences, there was a kind of radiance in the air, a kind of compassion and an awesome feeling that encompassed them all, even those in the shadows, even those in the darkness, even Lucius with his twitching cane. 

Without feeling the steady breath of Severus behind her and the gentle shifting of the weight of the unicorn under her, and the lit faces all around, she would have doubted its reality. Clutching his hands tight, he responded with pressure and she leant back into him and he took her weight.

'Are you alright?' he whispered.

'I'm fine,' she said truthfully and he half smiled.

'Come to your places,' said Albus, waving to them, 'in the presence of the May King and Queen and all assembled, both visible and invisible.'

The unicorn, needing no prompting, continued in a straight line from where they had entered the circle as if it had never stopped and reached the other side of the sacred space to the women's side. Severus then slid off and lifted her down and escorted her to stand just in front of the half circle, and attempted to arrange her train and veil. Before anyone had a chance to help, Dobby shot across from his side, which was just as well, since assistance was needed. Elrin nodded her thanks to Dobby who dashed back to his place, squashed in between 5th year boys and his own kith, Lucius' murderous eyes following him all the while.

The unicorn then departed into the night, and though she was reluctant to see it go, suddenly she was cool and clear as Severus, watched by countless eyes, completed his lone walk back across the space, automatically scanning the students for mischief and soon stood on the opposite side in front of all the males, his cloak swirling as he swung round to face her. 

Albus, eyeing them both, then allowed the two in their diametrically opposed  places a moment to compose themselves. Waiting for complete silence and cessation of movement he asked loudly turning to her, 'Do you, Elrin Danse, join us here of your own free will, to acknowledge before Deep Magick, the bond that is shared between yourself and Severus Snape?'

She could see him beyond the flames, the light throwing up shadows into his face. 

_Elrin, you know I will do nothing to harm one tiny particle of you.'_

'I do.'

'Do you, Severus Snape, join us here of your own free will, to acknowledge before Deep Magick, the bond that is shared between yourself and Elrin Danse?

His low voice growled from the other side.

 'I do.'

The old wizard then beckoned to both main participants and they paused only briefly and stepped forward slowly. It seemed an age to cross from one side to meet in front of the fire, aware as they were of every footstep, of the sweet-blossomed air, of the heat of the fire and their own breathing.  The pull between them increased as the space between them lessened, as one red figure, veil and train stretched out behind her moved towards the dark figure, his boots sounding on the turf in the quiet. As they finally stood before one another, she scanned him in all his dark ferocity and dignity gleaming in the warm firelight and opened her heart to his familiarity and his utter mystery. There was no room for doubt or questioning of their unity: he was her completeness, her adventure, her challenge, her clear heart's desire, like coming home. It was in that space, that silent moment where time stopped still completely, where worlds imploded upon her and the mystery of the world opened up as he stood there before her. Of all the times in the world that she had lived in, this was a moment which riveted itself to her brain, not because of how she was, nor how he was, but what they were, what they meant in that vast universe.

'Are you ready?' Albus said softly to them and they nodded. 'If you would now make the betrothal statements.'  

He, who was looking death in the face, took her fingers and held them to the half-ring at his collar, where his pulse was.

'You are everything I want, everything I need, everything I could hope for,' he said slowly, looking down at her. 'You have everything I have, everything I am, everything I will be.' 

She then took his fingers and pressed them to the half ring at her wrist, where her own heart beat. 'You are everything I want, everything I need, everything I could hope for,' she said, stumbling only slightly. 'You have everything I have, everything I am, everything I will be.'

It was in the next second that the half rings escaped from where they had been, slipped from their bonds and with a smart clang, fused in mid air and hovered, waiting. Severus plucked it and with his eyes on her, placed it on the index of her right hand.

'This betrothal ring is complete,' declared the old man smiling. She had been told stories of rings shattering or flying apart and never bonding, and the ceremony miscarrying. Addressing the assembly, he continued, 'the bride will remove her veil and then the bride and groom will be exchanging wedding rings.' 

She had practiced this with Xiomara. Manoeuvring a floor length veil up and back over her head was not the easiest thing in the world to do, but she managed it without fumbling, and the softness of the material slid down her back, the air brushing her face with the cool night air. Severus stared at her silently. 

From deep within his robes, Dumbledore pulled out two rings and slipped them onto the end of his wand and held it out before them. Bending confidentially to them, Albus said quietly, 'Take now your rings and place them on each other's hand. Remembering as you do so, that they include a small portion of this circle to remind you always of the declaration of intent that is made here today.'

She picked up the larger ring and since Severus had dealt with them, she had not seen them but instantly approved his choice of two entwined snakes, a deep crimson and a dark green made out of some unidentified precious metal with ruby eyes glinting from both. For a flash of a second, as she slipped the ring onto the smoothness of his finger, he looked at it like a small boy in a kind of wonder, with a kind of pride. Then it was gone, his familiar patrician face in position as he held her hand and she was sure that there was the slightest tremor there and then he gently pushed her ring, which was the same as his, in place.

Albus then declared: 'With full awareness, know that within this circle you are not only declaring your intent to be Handfasted before your community, but you speak that intent also to your creative higher powers and Universal Deep Magick.'

'Now, if you will face each other and join with your left hand,' he said taking five coloured silk cords from out of his robes. 'I bid you look into each other's eyes.' 

They had already agreed that neither hand would be dominant over the other as in tradition, and as their hands touched, familiar and comforting, a warm shiver went through her.

The old wizard then dipped his head towards his potions master.

'Severus Snape, will you cause her pain?'

He had been swallowing hard, waiting for the first question.

'Yes,' he said, and she could feel his hand grip hers tightly.

'Is that your intent?'

'No,' he said, a little more forcefully than was prescribed by ritual, but his hand relaxed a little. 

'Elrin Danse, will you cause him pain?'

 'Yes,' she said softly.

'Is that your intent?'

'No,' she replied and watched his eyes glitter.

To both of them he asked, 'Will you share each other's pain and seek to ease it?'

'Yes,' they answered together.

'And so the binding is made.' He wound the first cord across their hands.

'Elrin Danse, will you share his dreams?

'Yes,' and thought of his loving hands on the ancient parchments and the slow stirring of his cauldrons.

 'Severus Snape, will you share her dreams? 

_What were her dreams? What could there be after today? What business had either of them to dream?_

'Yes,' he said, solid in his reply.

To both he asked, 'Will you dream together? 

'Yes.'

'And so the binding is made.' He wound the second cord across their hands.

'Severus Snape, will you anger her?' 

There was a slight pause.

'Yes.'              

'Is that your intent?

 'No,' he said simply, and she watched his shoulders relax a little as he saw the wave of affection flow over her.

 'Elrin Danse, will you anger him?'

'Yes.' She said as she watched his mouth curve itself up into a half-smirk.

'Is this your intent?'

'No,' she said. She longed to put her arms around him.

'Will you take the heat of anger and use it to temper the strength of this union?'

'We will.' 

'And so the binding is made.' Albus wound the third cord across their hands.

'Severus Snape, will you share her laughter?' Gazing at her a second or two before responding, he seemed to find it a hard one for him to answer. He had had little laughter in his life, but the one person that had opened him a crack was standing looking up at him, a wicked smile spreading across her face.

'Yes,' he said as if surprised by himself.

'Elrin Danse, will you share his laughter?'

She could feel, as a wave of thought-forms, the students rapt at the unfathomable mystery that was their potions teacher. The idea of their professor engaging in laughter at all, let alone sharing it with anyone was an inconceivable concept for their adolescent minds. He could hear them too and his eyes twitched towards the circle, but then brought them straight back to her as she replied.

'Yes.'. They had had little laughter, but some nightsago, he showed his growing trust and their intimacy had increased significantly.

'Will both of you look for the optimism in life and the beauty in each other?' 

_Seeing the beauty in him was easy. Optimism, however might be much harder. The puzzlement in the young audience was like a wave of disbelief._ _The girls in the audience decided that they would not be in her red shoes for anything in the world._ _The boys wondered how he had managed to obtain her._

'Yes,' the two chorused.

'And so the binding is made.' He wound the fourth cord across their hands.

'Elrin Danse, will you honour him?' 

_You bet I will._

'I will,' she said, still and upright, and her voice echoed in the night.

'Severus Snape, will you honour her?'

'I will,' he almost growled, almost glaring at her.

Albus paused slightly as he put the question. 'Will you seek to never give cause to break that honour?'

They were both quick to respond and as one they replied, 'We shall never do so.'

'And so the binding is made.' Albus wound the fifth cord across their hands and then lifted himself up straight and said,  'The knots of this binding are not formed by these cords but instead by your vows. Either of you may drop the cords, for as always, you hold in your own hands the making or breaking of this union. Now raise your hands together, so that all may see.'

Their ringed hands, bound with the multicoloured cords were lifted up and there was a hum of approval, mostly coming from the house-elves. 

_He said he could do it. The bottom line was whether she trusted his ability as a potions master. He might be the Potions Master of the century, but he was her love first and foremost. _

When they had put their arms down, Albus turned to his potions master, his Head of Slytherin, his faithful younger collaborator, and said, 'Repeat after me,' 'I  Severus, take thee Elrin to my hand, my life-blood and my spirit which spans the rising and the

setting of the sun, the growth of spring to the great sleep of winter and the mighty procession of the stars. Death shall not part us, for we shall know the essential truth of each other, which are united and always have been, beyond time and space in Deep Magick.'  
Severus' words rumbled out throughout the gathering, slow and dignified and secure. You could hear history in his voice, generations and generations of wizards, layers of centuries, oceans of human sorrow and hope and supplication for life. It appeared to fill the night air, almost to fill the night sky. 

To the Phoenix translator, to the brave, beautiful stranger whom had earned his respect, Albus said, 'Repeat after me,' and lowered his head to her.

'I Elrin, take thee Severus to my hand, my heart and my spirit which spans the rising and the setting of the sun, the growth of spring to the great sleep of winter and the mighty procession of the stars. Death shall not part us, for we shall know the essential truth of the other, which are united and always have been, beyond time and space in Deep Magick.' Her voice, though low and clear, sounded strange in her ears as if it were someone else speaking. As if she were looking down from somewhere elevated: and as if a shower of music accompanied her, bright and high and awe-inspiring over her head.  

Albus then turned and nodded to someone in the circle and out sprang Winky, proudly carrying a silver tray with a chalice and two small cakes. Her clothes, or rather lack of them, since she still wore the grubby garments of her slavery, were at odds with the finery of the participants, but her beaming face wore the radiance of the blessed. Stopping in front of the two of them, she lifted the tray up for them and her eyes widened. Severus then took the chalice and gave it to Elrin who paused, surreptitiously glancing quickly at the sweet red wine inside and then up at him. Realizing her dilemma he shook his head infinitesimally. 'It is safe,' he whispered. 

She kept her eyes on him, all the while probing his veracity. 

_He would be breaking his vow of honour by doctoring it._

He leaned closer, ostensibly and with the silky growl so familiar to her, 'I have not touched it.'

_I can't lose my discrimination, my determination to choose, otherwise I am nothing: nothing but a puppet._

'Lucius may have done so,' she whispered.

'It is sacred: there can be nothing in it within this circle.'

She took a deep breath and drank and he watched her do so and then she handed it to him. She would have liked more. After he drank he stared hard at her, watching her lick her lips carefully. There was something in that look that made her want to sink slowly to the ground and her body flooded with its' natural reaction and wished for them to be alone. He then offered a cake to her and she ate it. Elrin then acknowledged the mutual dependency by offering him the cake that was left, which he took and ate slowly, his eyes briefly looking at the circle around them. __

She bent down to thank the house-elf and kissed her cheek and Winky scuttled off blushing and vanished into the circle.

Albus then cried 'Accio Broomstick' and a large ebony broomstick zipped in from out of the darkness and jerked to a halt in front of him, a dark shimmering form in the firelight. A loud intake of breath from the circle was evident and there was some murmuring. The headmaster silenced them with a quiet hand.

'I will remind everyone here,' he said, his spectacles flashing in the light 'that this broomstick has been especially made for the occasion.' As he sent it to the bonfire, the end ignited and the students gasped and groaned. Everyone else watched calmly. The whole of it flared up, then settled to a glowing white fire as if it were made completely of light, which extended out into a halo. It then returned to the old wizard who motioned it to the ground. There was a sudden quietness that seemed to reach to the end of the world as Severus looked at her, and both gathered their trailing clothes in one hand and each other's hand in the other, glance at one another as if they were going to jump over a cliff together and then rushed at it and jumped. For them it was as if time had ceased and they were in some other reality, into something much bigger: vast and nameless. However, they were not witnesses to their own fractional transformation into white fire, and only a few people were awake enough to observe that change. The next thing they knew they had cleared it to the cheers and stamping of feet and the clapping of everyone: some more enthusiastic than others. The unpopularity of the professor seemed to have abated in the excitement of the entertainment. Albus then motioned the broomstick to sweep around and behind them as they waited.  Elrin detected Severus' attempts to conceal his feelings by scowling while it swept away traces of their past life out towards the circle and through a gap in the students that Minerva made with some impatient twitching of her hands. When it had finished, it came back into the centre and flared into a brilliant white fire, which imploded with a crunching sound and disappeared, leaving not a trace behind. 

Albus then concluded his duties, the timbre of his voice having a final ring to it.

'O stars, may no danger molest, no malice disturb, but over their union, shine in peace.' 

_It was definitely not her imagination that he raised his voice at that._

'Elrin and Severus, you are united, nevermore to be divided. As Deep Magick is witness to this rite, I now pronounce you husband and wife,' pronounced the wizard. 'You may kiss.'

She wondered how Severus would feel doing this in front of all his students, but he did not seem to be aware of any of them. 

_Something in her ached at the preciousness of his face looking down at her with such a sad awareness of death showing in his face. How could he remain so apparently unconcerned with the threat of torture and certain death awaiting him in a short time? Nothing seemed to leak from him that would betray his fear._

His eyes fixed on her, he leant down as she reached up and as his body encompassed hers, she absorbed the astonishing taste of him mixed with the wine as their lips met. Neither saw the wide smile on Dumbledore's face, nor the rueful grins on their colleague's faces, or the disgusted faces made by most of the students and the long sighs from the house-elves. 

_Was she going to let herself be poisoned? Because now was the time._


	24. chapter 23 and three quarters

**                 Chapter 23 and three quarters **

           **Authors notes: **

(sorry if you thought this was going to be a chapter – chapter 24 will be up very soon.)

Since ff.net appears to have deleted the reviews for Chapt 22, would you - lovely – reviewers mind redoing them? They are given below so you won't have to think again or re-read……????

Thank you in advance. They are so precious to me, and I feel I need all I can get!

Superwitch

The following reviews have been submitted to: The Coiled Splendour Chapter: 22

**From: rickfan37 **

This was wonderful. I loved the cleansing ritual in the bathroom (and what a

hedonist old Albus is, LOL!). It was so affecting, and mysterious. I adored the

way it so obviously moved Elrin, and the different facets of him that each part

of the ritual brought to mind. And the formality of his coming to claim her,

and the words they had to speak, all absolutely in keeping with the mood of this

entire story, and so very, very right, and convincing. Yes, I believe it WOULD

be like that in their world, and I envy and am in awe of your ability to

transcend 'real life' in order to write with such feeling and spirituality. I

had not even begun to think along these lines when writing my own wedding

scenes. You have a wonderful imagination which I cannot hope to emulate myself,

being too bogged down in pragmatism. His power and strength are overwhelming

in this chapter, and her submission to him and reaction to his closeness simply

breathtaking. God, wouldn't we all feel like Elrin, but you describe him so

well! And yet underlying the whole chapter is such a sense of doom...I feel

very anxious for them now, because of the burglary attempt, Malfoy, the dream,

the potion she has to decide whether or not to take...argh! Post 23 soon!

**From: Arachne's Child **

"Do you wish to be taken?" Ye Gods, yes! (see, I finally got in and posted!)

Wonderful ritual, SW! You've got a wonderful way of expressing Elrin's thoughts,

doubts, and joys, so that we can see things as she sees them. I particularly

love the way she's having to deal with the dilemma of the Patriarchium potion,

and having to confront the level of her trust in Severus' potions ability. Love

does not always equal trust, and this will be an extra stretch for her. Let's

hope that "all will be well" - glad you put that in there.

**From: Ardelle Doch Ghayf **

That was so lovely, this chapter was really poetic especially near the end when

she was consoling herself that everything was going to be ok. It's a tale thats

blooming at a steady rate and I cannot wait for the climax. Your brill, thanks

for making me smile.

**From: messenger **

Oh Thank you for your update I have been waiting!! It was wonderful and I love

all the ritual "stuff" and the details of him coming for her and seeing her. 

Please help them this is so sad, this struggle they are going through I hope you

have this all mapped out so they get together and live happily ever after?

Please... Thanks,Kim

**From: Ezmerelda **

Wow. Great imagery in this chapter. I think I recognize the bathing ritual,

but I won't guess, since I'm not sure, and it might offend somebody. You

captured her tortured thoughts very well, on the one hand, she loves and trusts

Severus, on the other, she is afraid of losing herself. Actually, take out the

potion and the magic, and you have ordinary feelings of a new bride, at least

that's how I felt...Thanks for writing!

**From: Ramona()**

Brilliant. This was worth waiting for. Please more...

**From: hawaii5063 **

Excellent story. It is very difficult to write a good noncanon character, but

you have done it. I really like Elrin and the entire speaking Phoniex thing is a

great invention. I like your Severus too. You write tremendously good sex scenes

as well. Keep the story going - I can't wait to see how it all concludes!


	25. in other words, hold my hand

I'd like to thank you wonderful lot for redoing the reviews for Chapter 22. It meant a great deal and it was very kind of you.   And of course your reviews are so terrific. Please keep them coming. 

_Superwitch                                                                                           _

Chapter 23

_Something in her ached at the preciousness of his face looking down at her with such a sad awareness of death. How could he remain so apparently unconcerned with the threat of torture and certain death awaiting him in a short time? Nothing seemed to leak from him that would betray his fear: no effort to persuade her, or influence her or force her to do this thing. Just a stoic loving contemplation of her._

His eyes shimmering black, he leant down as she reached up and as his body encompassed hers, she absorbed the astonishing taste of him mixed with the wine as their lips met. Neither saw the wide smile on Dumbledore's face, nor the rueful grins on their colleague's faces, nor even the disgusted faces made by most of the students as well as the long sighs from the house-elves. 

_Was she going to let herself be poisoned? Because now was the time._

**In other words, hold my hand**

Frank Sinatra

Chapter 24 (which is going to show up as chapter 25 – oh well)

'And now,' announced Dumbledore, 'all that needs to be done, is to thank the forces that were with us today,' and he bowed gently towards the four directions,  'to express gratitude to the beings who were with us tonight, and to thank the May King and Queen' he said bowing towards the two figures still motionless on their thrones and we are done,' and as he did so, all the company bowed and then stamped their feet loudly. 'The sacred space is now closed.' He glanced briefly at Severus who nodded almost imperceptibly back. 'And we will continue with our festivities.' 

The students, glad of their freedom suddenly broke free and like a multitude of apples from a bulging sack, burst out and spread everywhere very quickly.  Elrin and Severus had a bright light slammed in their faces and was lucky not to have been hexed by one the best duellists in the country. Colin Creevey, a young man still sporting the palest of faces and wavy blonde hair behind his camera, had jumped in front of them, and both flinched. 

'For the Daily Prophet,' he explained unnecessarily.

'I think you will find,' Severus glared silkily, holding onto Elrin as if she were about to disappear, 'that that will be quite sufficient Mr. Creevey.'

'Professor..' he began, looking at his teacher's face, then changed his mind. There was no doubt that marriage had not softened the potions master. Suddenly, spotting a familiar figure advancing swiftly on them through the students, Elrin pulled Severus around so that he faced her, and demanded, 'kiss me.'

'Kiss you?' he asked, surprised at the order and aware of the students milling closely around them. She glared at him, urgency in her face. Puzzled he bent down to her. 

As he reached her lips she whispered, 'I'll do it. I'll take the _Patriarchium_.' He stared as if he had seen something wondrous like witnessing an Abraxan foal being born and had felt the quivering of its tiny damp wings. As he had stooped down to her, he froze and examined her with his eyes, searching, willing hungry, but silent. He stayed like that until a drawl behind him made the professor stand upright and turn on one heel, in a slow, deadly movement, which if she had been on the receiving end as the object of his displeasure, would have had her running for cover. Lucius, however assumed nonchalance with his unthinking certainty of brotherhood and smiled his contemptuous smile, all bonhomie and congratulatory assertions. With concern in his eyes for her, Severus bore it with graciousness and a dignity that made her want to burst with pride. Lucius could cut an aristocratic swathe with his superiority, but he was a popinjay against the dark elegance and astuteness of the potions master. She did not see Lucius wink at his co-conspirator and he went off swiftly. As he watched him go, Severus rounded on her quickly.

'Thank you my darling,' he said softly by her ear. 'I will administer the antidote after he has tested you.'

'Tested me?' she breathed.

'He is bound to want to do so and Voldemort will have told him to. Better to get it over with. He will not waste time. He never did have much patience.'  Wondering whether she had changed her mind, he held her hand surreptitiously between them. Elrin felt the blood rise and her breathing shorten.

_This was going to be harder than she imagined._

He squeezed her hand.  'Then I will administer the potion immediately to you. Trust me.'

The presence of Malfoy Senior had been putting people off who wanted to congratulate them, and the tradition of touching the couple for good luck was still important for them, so as soon as he disappeared, they spent some time shaking hands, he stiffly, she warmly, both side by side. She was glad of the distraction. A small procession of well-wishers including Hagrid and Wilemina and Xiomara and Filius among them stopped and spoke to them. Hermione, now down from her dais admired her dress and the compliment was easily returned. She was so pretty, and Draco sulkily dragged after her as his duty required, and she thought it was a shame that his handsomeness was so marred by his veneer of cynicism. On one so young, it lent a seedy air. Even Harry came and congratulated her, Ron hovering behind him, but she noticed that both skilfully avoided Severus.

They all stood out in the night air, and it was soft and warm and when it seemed a little cool, they gathered round the bonfire, some of the 2nd years attempting to find the ashes of the broomstick, shouting about the powers they could gain if they found any.

Soon, tables were being levitated into place by the house-elves, their bustle and jollity making a performance out of throwing the buffet platters about in wild abandon and playing with the cutlery as they laid the tables while many of the students enjoyed watching. It wasn't often that everyone ate outside. The week before, Severus had suggested that since all the food would have been prepared earlier, that the house-elves join the feast especially since they would be attending the ceremony, but horrified, they refused point blank. Severus had snarled at Dobby and two senior house-elves so vehemently and grimly pointed out that they deserved some festivities in such a threatening manner that they finally agreed to have a table to themselves a little apart. They said that they would be more comfortable that way, so it was agreed.

While Elrin was looking around at everyone, watching with a certain amount of detachment of their faces innocently radiant in the light and no doubt looking forward to the feast and the dancing, she thought she spotted someone who dived behind some prefects at the outer edges of the ceremonial area. Concerned, she left Severus' side to find out who it was and the person slipped further away from her. Moving was not entirely easy in that attire, so she had to pick her train up and dart through amused students, her veil moving from side to side, to find the person just about to dash through some bushes. It was darker away from the central arena and the night air chillier, shadows chasing one another in the relative quiet of the vegetation. When the figure looked back anxiously, only then did she recognise him.

'_Remus_!' she cried and he stopped, realizing the futility of further hiding. 

'How wonderful you could come,' she said, a little out of breath.

'I just wanted to…..' he stumbled and stopped.

'Of course you did. I'm really very glad you could come.' She meant it, and it was a pleasure to see his kind face and then she noticed something odd. His clothes no long had a shabbiness about them and his face looked clear, but he was uncomfortable.

'Did you get my flowers?' she asked.

'Yes, thank you. It was a kind gesture,' he said, suddenly not knowing where to put his hands.

'It wasn't just a gesture, it was because I wanted to.'

'For shut-ins. I know the tradition. _Flowers for the shut-ins_,' he muttered.

'Flowers for the people we like,' she said smiling. 'I sent just a few flowers. Some to Hagrid, some to Xiomara and some to Dumbledore. You are in good company I believe. And maybe you are no longer a shut-in?' she suggested. 'Would you join us?'

He jerked his head up, 'Severus wouldn't like it. He thinks I took the….'

A low growl interrupted him quickly from behind her. 'I am aware Remus,' said Severus, 'that you did not take anything from me.' Lupin, disconcerted, stared at his former colleague, remembering the fury that the potions master had borne down on him at St.Mungoes. 

'So you know who…' but did not get any further as Severus stopped him. 

'It would be fitting that you attend, if you wish it. I see my wife wishes it too,' and he held her shoulders possessively. It gave her a shiver since it was the first time he had referred to her new status. At least he did not pretend that it was his own wishes, though she felt less antagonism from him towards the erstwhile werewolf. Remus breathed deep and agreed to stay. She was about to link arms with them both and take them back into the centre when she changed her mind. 

'Remus, please go in and we will join you,' she said quickly and seeing him go, softly added to her lover and her new husband, 'Lucius is behind you.'

He turned and Malfoy stood there, with three goblets levitating before him, grinning tediously.

_Here it was. Her challenge, her trial, her Niagara Falls._

The school governor handed one goblet to her and one to Severus.

'May I,' he asked, holding a drink 'wish you both good fortune and happiness? I would also like to say that you are lucky to have each other,' and he nodded to her and clinked her goblet. 'You my dear have a mighty wizard in Severus who has a blisteringly powerful future if he plays his cards right, and you my dear fellow have such a beautiful, extraordinary woman,' and clinked his and then paused. 'To you both,' and raised his drink and smiled, waiting.

_Oh hell, oh hell Severus: you'd better be right._

Elrin had hesitated only for a fraction, looking down at the ruby depths of the wine, not daring to look at Severus in case she faltered or gave the game away and drank. It was a gorgeous wine, which went down with ease and she waited for something to happen. There appeared to be no change in her that she could detect and she risked a shrug at Severus as Lucius' eyes roamed over the company behind him, his nose lifting.

'Severus, we will give you a proper wedding when the time comes with the perfect company and appropriate environment, including all the trimmings,' said Lucius. 

_Don't like the sound of that and I'm not going to ask, especially the trimmings._

'Not this – raggle-taggle _shambles_, given by an old fool,' he continued and she observed Severus curl his lip in agreement.

'I've had my wedding thank you,' she said, incensed by his reference to Dumbledore, and her chin went up. 

Malfoy glanced briefly at his collaborator who paused for a moment, then spoke to his wife, his voice had a hint of menace in it. It made her shiver inside.

'I will have a wedding appropriate to my standing, with true elegance, in superlative company. Right Lucius?' and he winked at him.

As she was about to reply, she felt a strange pressure on her chest and her head became what she could only describe as fuzzy. Words formed in her mind, but they became scrambled.

_I have had my wedding day. I want no other. My wedding day: I want. I want my wedding. I want a wedding. I want a wedding. I want a wedding appropriate to my husband's standing. I want a wedding of true elegance in superlative company with all the trimmings._

'Yes Severus, as you wish,' were the words that eventually came out. Standing side by side, the two Death Eaters laughed together. Horrified, she looked at her husband. Sickness gripped her stomach. The betrayal, the true poison hit her like a thunderbolt. The two men seemed to be watching her like a specimen in a jar, and as her soul fluttered about in it, she felt true fear, and began to wilt physically. Severus was quick to encompass her as she sank towards the ground and as he laid his cheek against hers, he whispered directly in her ear, 'I love you.'

'I believe the lady needs a chair after all this _excitement'_ drawled Malfoy and with his wand manifested an 18th century chair that appeared from nowhere and her partner placed her carefully on it as if she were ancient parchment.

'The lady needs a drink,' sneered Lucius, all politeness and calm and was about to conjure one when his companion beat him to it. Severus put all the reassurance he could into his crow-black eyes while maintaining a ruthless face, as she lifted the glass to her lips. '_D-r-i-n-k_,' he said forming the words with his mouth slowly and carefully, as if indeed he were hypnotising her.

_Was that the antidote?  That must have been the test._

She drank and the warmth hit her throat and settled her shifting stomach and the world tilted a little more upright.            

'Such a big day,' comforted Lucius in his sleek patronising manner. 'What a woman dreams of,' he said, swinging his cane idly. Her eyes glittered dangerously, and aware of the depth of her anger, tried with all her might not to retaliate and give away her knowledge. Pulling up her reserves, and fortified by whatever was in the drink given to her, she said, 'I'm feeling better now thank you. It's been a long day,' and got up, smoothed her dress and adjusted the thin circlet holding the veil. 'I believe I should attend to the guests,' and was about to leave the two men to themselves, when Lucius glanced meaningfully at Severus who then said, 'Wait Elrin. There is something I want you to do.'

Her feet froze to the ground. She could not move them at all.

_Was this how she though it would be? She felt a fool._

There was no option but to wait until Malfoy senior suddenly said something into Severus' ear.

'Under no circumstances,' his companion snarled, his head whipping round, hair flaring out. Malfoy however, maintained his stance and said nothing, just looked at his fellow Death Eater, who was outraged, blood even shooting to his white face: two spots of angry colour rising on his cheeks.

'Lucius, do not do this.' he growled. 'Something else.' Malfoy continued to say nothing. 

Severus cursed and then took a deep breath. They could all hear the festivity in full swing: the banging of fireworks, music playing, the shouts of laughter and the sounds of general jollity. Taking out his wand, he fixed up an Invisibility Wall around the three of them and then spoke to Elrin, not able to look directly into her eyes. 

'Elrin, I want you to be nice to our fellow Slytherin. I want you to – kiss him,' and he hesitated, 'properly – fully – on the mouth.' He omitted the word sexual, but she knew what he meant.

_This was not to be a peck on the cheek._

Her sickness immediately returned. 

_Obviously, what he had given her was definitely not the antidote._

Seeing her pale, Severus' fingers clutched at thin air down by his side, but he was as helpless as she. There was a moment when she thought he might refuse to make her do this. Malfoy was enjoying her total discomfort and his companions' as well. 

_She should just be grateful that that was all he demanded. Anything further would be unthinkable. _

'This is not quite a compliment madam,' he drawled. 'Your reluctance is ungracious.'

'This is my wedding day – to Severus,' she managed to blurt out.

'So?' he replied in his condescending tone. 'A little kiss is neither here nor there in the greater scheme of things.'

The pressure on her chest was increasing so strongly, that she felt she might not be able to stand soon and her head pounded so uncomfortably the more she delayed. Feeling that it was becoming unbearable, she took a step or two towards Lucius who waited completely still: she all red fire moving towards his blonde, upright presence. He was enjoying her struggle.

'Come my dear and give your Uncle Lucius a wedding kiss,' he hissed. This comment only served to slow her down.

_How hard can this be? It's only a kiss. Nothing more. If it had been more, it would have pushed Severus over the edge. Malfoy knew that. It's only a kiss._

Feeling her body betraying her, she moved forward and his cologne reached her and it was rich and seductive. The worst thing of all, was that there was a part of her that wanted it, was drawn to him as surely as if she were in the grip of devil's snare. He raked her up and down as she moved towards him and her body shivered. She remembered Hermione's advice to the rest of their trinity about that carnivorous vegetation.

_Relax, just relax. Struggling will only make it worse._

Not being sure whether it was his feral sexuality that was pulling her or the potion impelling her she tried to rationalize what was happening, but it all seemed too fast and yet unbearably slow. There was a terrible desire in her to turn and call to Severus for help: to plead if necessary to be relieved of this, but she did not. He was as tall as Severus and as fastidious in his dress: ermine and silk and dark elegance. He stood there like a vast column, waiting for her to come to him. Fastening her eyes on the coiled snakes resting on the blackness of his cloak, she did not want to lift her eyes to see his predatory face but the physical discomfort only lessened if she did so. Unlike the curved and sensuous mouth of her lover, Malfoy's lips had a hard meanness to them, though they were pleasantly shaped. His cold, cold eyes, the coldest blue she had seen, stabbed her with their hunger. Then she was pressing up against his body and suddenly she could feel his hardness lower down. She could hardly breathe.

'You need to learn,' he enunciated carefully with the langerousness of a jungle cat, 'where your place is, my dear.' As she watched his lips in dismayed fascination, he pounced down upon her with the sexual predation of a ferret. There was no way she could see Severus behind her judder and screw his fists up tightly, muttering some Latin to himself. A sense of responsibility meant that he was forcing himself to watch, when he only wanted to turn his face and not witness what was happening. Lucius had thrown his arms around her and pressed his lips against hers in a wide gaping maw, which made her shrink inside. It was if he had reached down into her and plucked out her beating heart and held it, suffocating, in his hand. Feeling him pressing against her with his groin as well as the greedy groping of his mouth she tried to retreat, but the pain immediately returned, so she desperately tried to relax. 

_Think sexy. Think tall Slytherin. _

As soon as she relaxed, he shoved his tongue down her throat and she almost gagged. He had as much sophistication as a thug underneath that faux aristocratic demeanour. She desperately tried to accommodate him, and attempted to imagine Severus, then blocked him out of her mind. 

_There was no way that she could think of him at this moment. _

He was sucking and biting at her like she was something to be eaten and hastily too.

This jarring violation had none of the passion of Severus: which spoke of giving and a receiving but this was a rape plain and simple, a conquering, stealing ugliness. Savagery was hidden under a cloak of refinement and superiority: a taking without leave, a one-sided engagement that had no humanity to it. For all their likeness on the outside with their caustic, sensuous sophistication and possession of a shared heritage, they were a world apart.

_Will this never end? Who would say when it was to finish?_

As soon as she attempted to return his endeavours and imitate at least some sensuality, she felt the hardness strengthen against her thighs and he was suddenly pulling her downwards and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She could hear Severus' raised voice above the clamour in her head and suddenly Lucius broke away, anger on his face, his hair in disarray. 

'A kiss, Lucius. Just a kiss,' her husband snarled, face grim and wand at the ready, his whole body shaking under fierce control. Malfoy knew he had stepped over the edge of his comrade's tolerance and irritably adjusted his dress. 

'What a lot of fuss Severus,' he snarled, attempting to escape from the situation with some dignity. 

'You are my guest Lucius,' said the dark haired wizard to the blonde, remaining angry, but realizing the need to distract such a dangerous visitor, 'come and have some more wine with us.'

Brushing off imaginary stains on his black cloak as if she needed brushing off too, he declined the offer, still smarting. 'Thank you my dear fellow,' he said, beginning to regain a modicum of dignity. 'I need to go home. I have urgent business there.'

_Probably to take the housemaid or whichever woman was nearest._

It did not take more than a few moments for him to replace his suave mask and his composure was complete. With a farewell to his comrade and a leer at her, he disappeared into the darkness.

Immediately the potions master sprang to her, but halted at her expression. She had wanted his arms around her straight away, but that was in the first few seconds and all she could feel then was a defensiveness that gripped her in despair. He didn't know what to do. Some deep instinct made him go down on one knee before her and say, 'I cannot forgive myself for that. I have just vowed that I would inadvertently hurt you, but that I would honour you and I have broken it within minutes.' 

'It was a small price to pay for your life,' she stuttered brokenly. Gazing down on him, he looked so sad that she flung herself down with him and they wrapped themselves round each other, kneeling, so that the colours intermingled and no one could tell which part belonged to whom and tears of frustration and relief poured out down his cloak and whose they belonged to were a matter no one would ever know. After they had begun to release the tight grip they had on one another, and had kissed every exposed area of skin, faces wet and flushed and had stroked and stroked each other's hair, he brought out the crystal phial with a shakiness that was rare. Then summoning some wine in a glass, he meticulously poured out more than enough for her restoration and held it silently before her. 

She drank it avidly but felt no different, just like she had felt when she had drunk the _Patriarchium_. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Remus and Hagrid in animated discussion and casting anxious glances in their direction.

_She didn't want to think about whether it had worked or not._

'I think we should attend to our guests,' she said, 'some of them are concerned about our disappearance.'

'Let them be concerned,' he muttered.

Hagrid looked as if he would storm over to where they were, and although he could not see them, as Severus had not taken the Invisibility Walls down, he would certainly bump into them.

'I  have decided to stay here, by ourselves. We could….'

She fondled his arm, feeling the folds of his sleeves and the warmth underneath them and then searched his face.

'Sweetheart, I would like nothing better, but I have a feeling we should attend to our duties. We have time for that later.'

'I say,' he said, 'that we stay here.'

'_Severus?_' she said beginning to get anxious and not a little irritated, and began to pull him towards the light and festivities, temporarily forgetting about the walls.

_Since when had he not wanted to do his duty?_

Then she stopped suddenly and a smile radiated over her face and she turned to him, face lit. There had been no pressure on her chest, no fuzziness, no symptoms at all. The satisfaction on his face was worth the trouble it took to put it there. 

'Oh, my darling, I'm so proud of you,'' she said, flinging her arms once again round him and he swirled her around him, her dress flying out with her.

'You did it,' she continued.

'We did it,' he corrected.

And with his kisses, he completely wiped out the aftertaste of Lucius. After a few moments, he recited  '_Finite Incantatum,_' to take the walls down and they walked towards the mingling guests, their hands gripped between them.

Hagrid was naturally the first one to find them and his good-natured face was screwed up with worry.

'We've bin lookin' for you two. Getting' worried we were.'

'We're fine, thank you Hagrid,' she said, speaking for the two of them. On impulse she motioned him down from his great height and gave him a kiss on the cheek and the half-giant blushed to his boots and went all silly. Severus averted his eyes from the sight.

Remus appeared from nowhere with some food and punch for them from the tables which literally groaned from the amount of food, complaining and wheezing all the while and then chortling every now and then when anyone tickled them. Although the food was delicious, they picked at it, just savouring a new freedom, a fresh escape, a newly shared unity, a future. They endured with patience the whirl of sociability with students coming up with questions, staff talking their heads off, house-elves squeaking their good wishes as they became the centre of the turning festival, shared with Hermione and Draco. Malfoy junior began to talk man-to-man with Severus. Hermione rolled her eyes at Elrin and they shared a conspiratorial grin, so they went into a space by the fire and talked for some time, Harry and Ron eventually joining them. She was interested in their responses to Beltane. Elrin could see Severus glance at her now and again, reassuring himself of her presence or desperation to get away from Draco, she could not tell. He had always used the son to get to the father and today was no different. 

After a while, he came over to her and said that it was time for the toasting and he needed her by his side. Assured that everyone had a drink, the students with punch made from Sweet Woodruff, the staff with wine and the house-elves with a mysterious concoction of their own, Severus knocked a glass to gain everyone's attention, then nodded to Dumbledore who had managed to acquire a funny hat with fireworks on it and who nodded back to the giggles of the younger students. Everyone else had seen him do this so many times, that it was rather predictable.

 As he waited until all fell into silence, Elrin gazed around at the motley assemblage and finally felt at home. This was where she belonged, this was where, for good or ill, her heart was.

'As always, I will be brief,' said the old man, 'A toast to the most excellent May King and Queen and may you reign all summer long,' and lifted his goblet to the sky.

'All summer long,' chorused the company and drank. Hermione and Draco glowed.. Draco then stiffened upright and with his lordly manner, and despite the differences between him and his father, Elrin shuddered to herself.

'To – Professor Snape – and – Madam Snape. May all your days have peace and prosperity,' he drawled and lifted his glass of punch.

'Peace and prosperity,' they all chanted and downed the hatch.

_Peace. The irony, coming from the son of the most dangerous Death Eater that existed._

Eyes then riveted on the professor with the harshest of  reputations as he raised his goblet.

'On behalf of – my wife and myself, an expression of gratitude is in order for the ceremony, the feast and the company.' He cringed at the last, because in truth he would have preferred a less public marriage. However, the wine had soaked into his blood, but more importantly, his skill as a Master Potion maker truly belonged to him now, and as if that were not enough, he had acquired a companion that was beyond his deserving. He had never felt so complete. 'I would like to toast the school that I have dedicated my life to.'

'The school,' they chorused and everyone drank, draining their glasses. The ritual speeches were over. Elrin then moved forward, but did not raise her goblet but her voice.

'You may wonder what the tiny paper unicorns are about – in the silver bowls. It's a Muggle custom to give what is known as a _favour_ to guests – a little present. There is a unicorn for each. It knows the recipient and will give you, if you put it under your pillow or by your bedside, a dream of whatever is your heart's deepest desire. It may or may not come true, so I recommend that you think carefully about what you truly want. She omitted to say that Severus had done the spells necessary for them: she knew he would hate them to know, and it was true that he would not have done it unless she had badgered him into it, grumbling all the while. 

Severus stepped forward again, 'And do not imagine,' he began silkily, glaring around at the young faces before him, 'that your potions essays are excused because of today. I expect them in on Friday,' and there was a general soft moan. His eyes glittered at them. 

_Just in case they thought he was going soft._

Hermione was the only student that smiled and then dropped it quickly as he spotted her doing so. He sneered in delight to himself. She was the best student that he had had and he did not want her to get conceited. Putting up with Draco was quite sufficient.

Filius then reminded them that they needed to be the first on the dance floor and waving his wand, began the music. Most of the older students were ready for this moment and had their partners all lined up. All that was needed was for the couple to do their bit, and they could enjoy the rest of the night, so they stared hard at Severus and Elrin. Her train and veil was quickly shortened for the dance as they made their way to the centre, the bonfire having settled into an intense golden light and low on the ground. He had been more nervous of this moment than she, as it was so long since he had danced with anyone. His job of chasing errant students had kept him off the dance floor for many years. However, as soon as he was on it, the familiar rhythm returned and she made it easy for him, moving against his body like liquid. They began slow, settling into the rhythm, settling into moving as one, then breaking off as single entities, pulling away from one another, eyeing one another, then moving towards one another, he tugging her to him, she allowing him to pull her against him, to mould to him, to yield to him, then they were apart again and she this time slinked up to him and he was in retreat and she showed her power, her tigress walk and she captured him and he allowed himself to be caught and looked at her in wonder, and then they were one again, moving as velvet over the ground. More than one student had their mouth open. Even though to their eyes the dancing appeared old fashioned, something made them see why she chose him, though many were in denial, not able to believe their eyes. A camera was flashing but the dancers ignored it and gradually some of the professors began to dance. Filius stepped out with his new partner and Hagrid asked Wilhelmina Sprout who, giggling accepted his invitation standing on his feet. The prefects began as well, Hermione and Draco starting first, she keeping her distance from him and he looking supercilious and downright irritated. They were too close for their own comfort. Soon the area was covered with paired figures and the evening was in full swing.

After some time, there was a break in the dancing, and Dobby tugged at Elrin's dress urgently.

'Winky wishes to bring out the wedding cake,' he squeaked, his eyes bulging, excited.

'Of course Dobby,' and she indicated this to Severus, whose patience in social interaction was beginning to wane and who kept eyeing students near bushes and fingering his wand, but who suffered himself to be led to the tables again. Calling a temporary halt to the music, they waited for the wedding cake to be brought in, the couples standing politely and when it did arrive, she nearly fell backwards. It was being levitated towards the biggest table by several house-elves and Winky had outdone herself. Colin Creevey went mad, flashing here and there, until Filius stopped him in case of accidents. It was a mad arrangement, 10 tiers tall, not completely symmetrical, not completely stable, in fact it looked as if the whole thing might topple at any minute. Winky, for it was she that was responsible, had abandoned herself to a sort of mad baroque creation with the icing bag. Each tier had two small marzipan figures, one in dark green and the other in red, kissing, lying asleep in bed, sitting in easy chairs facing one another before a fire, riding horses: one black, one chestnut, him wrapping his arms round her with Sampeer hovering, riding the unicorn to escape from the forest, and then both of them talking with Fawkes and Dumbledore round a fireside.  There was even one with Severus in the duel with the professor whose name she had forgotten, and then to her embarrassment, there was one with her in her red slit dress and high heels on the dance floor with him. These little scenes went all the way up to the top, while insane decorations of quills and parchments, cherries, bows and ribbons jostled the sides. 

_What had those sharp eyed house-elves not noticed? She thanked the stars there was no illustration of the library._

Further up, looking very precarious, were cakes perhaps made more for student tastes. 

There was chocolate and jam and cream oozing out of the many cakes that were insanely covered in sprinkles, jelly and fudge owls, liquorice whips and voodoo cakes, as well as piles of belly flops and peep-covered bananas. 

'That one there is a  Krispy Kreme doughnut cake sir,' pointed out Dobby with pride,though Elrin had never heard of such a thing.  Severus gaped at the monstrosity in horror. Winky took this for awe and sighed contentedly. Elrin quickly grasped her husband by the arm and leant against him. 'It's beautiful,' she murmured forcefully, gripping his hand. Winky was beside herself, and Dobby, reassured as to the professor's appreciation, whipped out a knife for them to use.

'Sweetheart?' she said. He glared at her for a second as if he might retort, 'don't sweetheart me,' but she nudged his arm, indicating the knife, which he took, still speechless. She just hoped he wouldn't lunge at the nearest house-elf, so she clung onto him and placed his hand over hers while they cut. Cheering went up when it had been done and amid flashes of light, cake was distributed by the happiest of house-elves.

Hours later, after endless dancing and eating and the teachers had split up quarrellers and amorous couples, Dumbledore finally ordered all the students to bed. In more peaceful years he would have allowed at least the seniors to stay up all night since it was a special occasion, but this year was different: they had taken many a chance already. So he ordered them into a long line, snaking round the area, and one by one, hesitating first – setting their one wish and with varying degrees of optimism, they ran and jumped the fire, now low and propitious with its simmering golden light.

Many of the staff headed back to the school to supervise, leaving a handful to sit by the fire talking into the night. Minerva was hilarious as she gave a wonderful imitation of Lucius on Parent's Day and Filius entertained them with his excellent stories. Elrin leant against Severus in the warm light listening to the murmur of their voices as well as their laughter and drifted off in a blissful sleep. When she awoke, he was standing over her, encouraging her to wake and rise. It was dark and the fire had been put out. Remus, Minerva and Filius were making their way back to the castle, still talking and carrying pieces of the fire for their rooms. It was the custom she understood and Severus had already taken theirs. Then she heard Minerva say that Remus would be put up in one of the guest rooms.  

_That was good. _

She was more tired than she thought and she drowsily allowed him to support her towards Aelfsidene who was inexplicably standing there, his black tail flicking impatiently but who must have been half asleep as well, since he was more subdued than usual.

'Come,' he said, 'It would be easier if I got on first, and you were behind me.' When he was mounted, he pulled her up easily onto the horse so that she could cling on behind him, still drowsy as the horse bounced away into the darkness, shying from the surrounding shadows. 

'Where are we going? Are we going home?' she slurred and was aware through her tiredness that she had called it home, even if it was only some hundred yards away.

'No,' he said and fell silent.

Wherever they were going, she did not mind; everything that she cared for she had her arms around, her head lolling on his warm back. The stars were bright above, and she idly watched them as they paced their way along numerous paths, through fields and then gradually began to climb upward and was aware of the danger of slipping off. The occasional owl made the horse start, but otherwise the journey was uneventful, just long, but eventually Aelfsidene stopped. She could hear the chattering of dawn birds just beginning and it must have been lighter because she could make out the edge of some woods as Severus dismounted. As the warmth of his back left her she woke and he lifted her gently down. When she turned around, the sun was not yet up, but she could see the mists in front of her gaze where the early morning was just beginning to reveal layers of  mountains in the distance and the castle and the deep glitter of lakes below. They had gone further than she would have imagined.

'It's so beautiful,' she gasped. 'This is somewhere where you visit often?'

'As often as my duties allow,' he said, observing her reaction closely. It looked like the effect on her was important to him. He surveyed the scene before them and sighed slowly. 'It has saved my sanity on more than one occasion.' Listening to Aelfsidene munching his way through the grass along the tree line behind them, she put an arm round his waist and wondered at the times he would have come here in pain and confusion. 

'We have something to do,' he said calmly.

'We do?'

'I have not told you about this aspect of Beltane, this cleansing ritual. It is nothing to concern yourself about, it is a small one,' he smirked, seeing her disconcertment but sleepy though she was, she didn't miss the implication of that look. 

'Come,' and he showed her a small spring just a little further along the tree line. 'Cup some water in your hands' and he waited for her. Puzzled, but doing as he bid, she swept her skirts aside, crouched down and scooped some of the cold fresh water in her hands. He then stood in front of her and dipped his fingers in it and washed her brow lovingly with water, some of it running down her face like tears.

'May you have joy and peace in your soul,' he murmured, 'and delight in your body.'

He then sprinkled it on her hair and then mischievously dropped some down her cleavage. She laughed and he laughed slowly: a long, strange sound. Riveted, she observed him take what was left of the water in her palms and said, 'Now you do it for me.' She bathed his brow carefully; loving the wide expanse of it, his hair flopping down before it, water falling down his proud face.

'May you have joy and peace in your soul,' she said softly, 'and delight in your body.' He had to bend a little for her to be able to flourish liquid over his head and even then she had to reach up and a memory shot through her of the other time when she attempted to take off what she thought was his wig. The spring water sat on his glossy blackness as he accepted her blessing with a kind of humility, which reached to her very core. Since he had less skin showing, there were less places to put it, so she placed some on his lips, wiping it gently on the curves of them. His eyes grew hot and she noticed that the lower part of her body was beginning to have symptoms of meltdown, of heat and oozing liquid. She was definitely awake now. He wiped his hands with the rest of the water and carefully, slowly, he closed the short distance between them and bent down until he reached her mouth and kissed her so tenderly and sensuously that she clung to him as if he might disappear.

'Severus…ahhhh,' she moaned, desperate for him.

'Sweetheart,' he answered as they wrapped themselves round one another like vines, gasping and hungry for each other. He manoeuvred her into a dense patch of high grasses and broke away to take his cloak off and lay it down on the ground. She grasped his frockcoat and got him out of it even though it was cool and then sat down on the cloak. He stood there watching her in his pure white shirtsleeves, before she pulled him down onto her, the grasses waving high above them and the smell of early summer vegetation as well as damp earth assailing their nostrils. To prevent them from getting cold, he cocooned them in a Warming Spell and they continued with slow, deep kissing, warming to each other as he shunted his knee up between her legs pinning her to the ground, her skirts splayed around her. Then suddenly, it began to rain softly.

'Oh,' she said, disappointed, feeling the light drops begin.

'Good Beltane rain,' he murmured 'same properties as the spring water,' and allowed the rain to fall onto them a little before he invoked an Invisible Wall as protection above them and they listened to the soft drum of the raindrops on the cover. In a moment, he held his arm out beyond it, and with a wet hand, smeared cool water over her shoulders, over her cleavage above her bodice, over her neck, over her back, kissing each part as he went. Then he dived back again and throwing back her skirts, massaged her thighs with it, making her want him. Then he noticed something and said in his silkiest tone, 'You married me without knickers on?'

'I did,' she giggled, bending her face into his shirt.

'Just as well you didn't trip over the broomstick then,' he said dryly, but with a smirk on his face.

'I didn't think of that,' she said, falling back down, laughing.

'Obviously. Mm. It was just as well I was ignorant of it,' he said and bent to kiss her unclothed state, which promptly stopped her laughter, sending an erotic charge through her as his tongue lapped at the wetness of her thighs. Struggling not to cry out in need, she writhed and pulled at him, but he held her down, intent on the rubbing of his tongue over her smooth rounded thighs, bare and vulnerable and wide under his gaze. She tried to shift her body so that he would move towards a more satisfying juncture, but he chortled at her attempts, and ignored her flailing hands. From her position, she could not grasp hold of him and he knew it and leered at her from behind his curtain of hair. Then as swiftly, he left her lower half and he was with her, his overwhelming presence real and hungry before her, pushing her down on the ground with him on top of her, possessively. 

'Mine,' he growled happily. 'You are mine.' Then he whispered quietly, his lips centimetres from her own: 'You did something I could never have imagined anyone doing for me.' She searched his face and his ruffled hair, damp with the rain and could feel the smoothness of his chest through his open shirt, his ribs heaving. 

'I did what I had to do,' she replied somewhat sharply, not wanting to think about Lucius.

'I am – it was despicable to put you through that,' he said. 'You have done a dangerous thing. You will have to do what I say in public, you realize that?'

'Mm, ' she replied, seductively feeling the firmness of his thighs under his trousers and the hardness of him wanting to break through the many buttons, 'I will do what you say now.' 

'Then,' he said quietly, 'I want you on top of me.'

It took him seconds to roll over and whisk her over him so that she was astride with her full dress, petticoats and all, brushing the Invisibility Wall with her hair, raindrops sliding down the domed cover. She took some time to briefly lift her skirts showing her cream limbs with its' dark centre, so that the material was out by her side, their smooth silkiness covering them both like a giant flower.

'Now take that bodice off,' he murmured, attempting to do so ineffectively. It was a moment before it was off and her small and beautiful breasts were swinging free before him. With his legs stretched out in abandon, he was flat on his back under her. Gazing at her loveliness, he then kissed her hands peeking out of the long gloves that she still wore, his mouth open on the silky dragons' blood red of the gloves, delirious with pleasure, thanking all the stars for his destiny. 

_How did he get here? What road led him here? Did he do something worthy at some point in his wretched life?_

'I have you now, Severus Snape,' she announced gravely, sitting snugly on him, pinning him to the earth. 

_There he was, the Death Eater, the now great Master of Potions, the scourge of the school, the terror of the students, the spy, now under her thighs, midnight hair splayed out around his head, his arms out as if he didn't know what to do, as if he yielded to her unconditionally._

'You have me, I confess it,' he said elated at the sound of his name used in that way by this astonishing woman and the pressure of her naked groin upon his stomach.

'Undo yourself,' she demanded, flicking her long hair back from her face and as she leant forward, her breasts touching his face, he obediently eased his hardness out with his fingers. It stood out erect behind her, hot and needy.__

Rarely had she been in this position and was heady with it. She could feel the steady drumming in his chest with her palms and experienced a smug delight in having him under her control, even as, or even because she knew he could take it away in an instant. There was no denying his power, she could feel it in his aura and in his body and in his mind, but he lay there below, acquiescent for her delectation as well as for his own desires. It reached the inner core of herself and burst into flower, making her wet and slithery. Shifting her bottom, she manoeuvred herself so that she could feel his smooth, slightly wet head and pushed herself gently down, gasping aloud as she was speared with his length and width, enthroned completely. He groaned, his back arching and gasped with the powerful emotion that blossomed within the subjection of his position. It was something he had never voluntarily been in before, except perhaps under Voldemort's revenge: powerless and in agony. 

_This, however, was heaven._

'I have you absolutely,' she whispered, leaning close.

'You have me absolutely,' he echoed, staring up into the depth of her eyes, licking her nipples as her breasts swayed before him, his nose brushing their swollen flesh. 

'Good,' she said, kissing the warm satin of his mouth, wanting and needing his whole body like some avaricious carnivore, her flowing hair covering his head and shoulders. She moved her hips slowly, very slowly, just sufficient for him to begin to pant and moan so strongly that he nearly came in that instant, so enveloped was he. He concentrated on a bird singing in a nearby tree, aware of its liquid throatiness and an answering call from a mate perhaps. Gaining control, his breathing deepening, he lifted his mouth up to reach hers again, moaning and wanting to thrust, but unable to with her weight pinning him down. She tried not to laugh.

'Some of your own medicine,' she murmured, smiling and stroking his forehead.

He growled and she smiled even more, laughing openly, kissing his cheek. 

'I adore you,' she said.

'And I want you,' he growled. 'I can't take much more of your teasing,' he said.

'You want me to put you out of your misery?' she enquired archly.

'I will punish you if you do not,' he said through gritted teeth.' Severely.' 

'Promises, promises,' she said, shifting back and moving her body again slowly, up and down on his projection. He groaned loudly to her satisfaction and as she herself was beginning to feel the delirium of her own body, increased the pace, bending backwards in euphoria, her hair swinging wildly, breasts jiggling in the early morning half-light. 

'Elrin,' he cried, suffering. 'Harder, _more_.'

She grabbed his shirt, passion convulsing through her, wanting him, needing him, angry with him, desperate for him, craving him, seeking him. She roughly pushed him in the chest and pulled his hair back, tenderly biting his neck, then seconds later cradling his head and stroking him until he did not know anything any more. Gripping and releasing him inside her, she bounced joyfully until the sweat ran down her neck which made him grip his cloak in pain or bliss it would be impossible to say, his back arching helplessly and his mouth open soundlessly to the sky. She felt the deep pleasure beginning to rise up in her as she felt a change in him. 

'Darl…?'

The loudest roar she had heard from him made the birds in the nearby bushes scatter and any animal within hearing distance start at the sound. Before his cry was over, and the heat of his passion had flooded her with his life energy, jerking to a halt, blood rushed through her body and she quivered and shuddered over him, falling on his prostrate body, panting, her own liquid pouring out to mix with his. Gradually, he wrapped his arms around her and they lay a while, still within her, her heart thumping against his, hair damp with sweat as he orientated himself to reality. It had stopped raining.

They sat and watched the sun come up, it's blazing light muffled by the retreating mists, splashing its colour over the castle and the dark lakes and on themselves, while they snuggled against a tree with her in his enveloping arms and his cloak around them both for warmth.     

**                                   To be continued….**.

_Abraxan_   
A breed of Flying Horse; the Abraxan is a gigantic, extremely powerful Palomino. The winged horses, which pulled the Beauxbatons carriage, were probably Abraxan 


	26. there's no place like home

In order to adjust the chapters to make them fit the fan-fic system, I will jump a chapter number, otherwise it just gets too confusing. 

Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews. Please keep doing it, and if you haven't a few words will do. (begging now! :o) 

Chapter 24

They sat and watched the sun come up, it's blazing light muffled by the retreating mists, splashing its colour over the castle and the dark lakes and on themselves, while they snuggled against a tree with her in his enveloping arms and his cloak around them both for warmth.     

There is no Chapter 25

**There's no place like home**

Chapter 26

They could not afford the time to go on honeymoon, so they had to endure the giggles and stares of the students wherever they went. Not daring to laugh directly in front of him, they targeted Elrin when they caught her on her own; some of them asking sly questions like 'does Professor Snape really sleep? Does he sleep on a bed? One 2nd year, risking his luck, even asked her if she had any unusual marks on her neck. Almost immediately he wished that a Dementor had swallowed him up because everyone froze as the words left his mouth and he saw them gaping, horrified at something behind him. Before she could give the boy short shrift, Severus had taken over. The professor's left eyebrow became characteristically high, as he loomed perilously close over the quivering boy who had to explain to the why he had asked the question.

**'**Yes, Mr. Abercrombie, you were enquiring about my sleeping arrangements I believe? He enquired dangerously silky.

Elrin privately gave the boy top marks for imagination: something about a hex of bedbugs, and even elaborated on the scales they left behind and the itchiness produced by them. He had fifteen points taken from Ravenclaw and a detention nevertheless, which she thought was a bit stiff, but would not dream of interfering. Elrin had a hard time not laughing, and struggled in her handkerchief behind the little group. Severus glared at her and swept back to his class.

That particular day was a warm day, so many of the staff sat out in the sunshine during their lunch break underneath the ancient Yew in the gardens with the waft of sweet flowers drifting over them, sipping cooled pumpkin juice, or iced coffee.  There was just enough shade for those resting below the long splayed limbs of the Yew which reached out to try and catch the hot sun with its' few leaves. The tree doxies had been offered sweets to keep them happy, and they squatted out of sight, peering at the humans below and ripping the sweets apart with their sharp teeth. It had been a busy morning in a busy week. The students needed to be harried about the coming exams, but not too much or they would simply concede defeat. There needed to be a subtle balance and the staff were exhausted trying to find it.

'Such an unusually hot day for this time of year,' sighed Flitwick as he lay back in his chair, stirring his coffee and who allowed the almost imperceptible warm breeze to percolate his robes, 'but it's a delight, a delight.'  

It is a curious phenomenon that when mammals slow down with rising temperatures, that the insect world speeds up. Accordingly Minerva set up a few spells to repel boarders, which would only last for an hour, so that enquiring flies and erratic midges turned drunkenly away and left them in peace. Satisfied, she fanned herself and squinted her eyes in the strong light, listening to the birdsong around them.  Severus leaned nonchalantly against the crumbling trunk as if for protection and to have a good view of everyone else, as if he were on guard. His hands absently rubbed the swirling bark behind him.

'May I remind you Severus, that the bark is extremely vulnerable, and if you are not careful,' muttered Minerva anxiously looking up, 'you will have the doxies down on us and all hell will break loose.' Apparently they took the guardianship of the four thousand year old yew tree very seriously and by the look of its condition, needed everything it could get. Severus curled his lip as if he would like them to try. The sultry atmosphere made them want to doze off as the sun hit the shrubs and the hot green grass and it was only the shouts of nearby 3rd years playing a game that kept them awake as well as the distant thwock of bludger on beater stick. Severus had half an eye on the ones he could see. Elrin sat by Xiomara and Remus, who was continuing to display a better colour in his face, and growing healthier by the day. His clothes were untidy, but no longer had the patched disgrace of earlier days, so he exuded that unaffected, slightly rough disarray that was very appealing. In addition it was fascinating to notice that his face had begun to relax after the tensions of recent times and good humour and compassion seemed to glow from him like the day itself.

Elrin observed them all surreptitiously as they relaxed in the luxury of the day and as she sneaked a long glance over at her new husband, flushed quietly with the knowledge of him and hid her pride. Suffering in the heat, Severus eventually gave in and made a cooling spell for his heat-absorbing robes and who then gazed into the distance as if he did not desire their company. 

Their intimacy stretched across the spatial divide and she could feel the tug of it like a physical binding even with his face averted and concentrating on something in the distance. Conscious of the fact that he was aware of where she was, as well as her every move, she noticed the occasional flick of his eyes towards her, though he pretended not to pay much attention to her. She could tell that he felt guilty about idling there until to her surprise, Remus began to talk to him about the threat that had been hanging over the country for the past week and he responded coolly but civilly. 

'Nothing at all,' replied Severus. 'No hint of anything.'

'Do you think it might be a false alarm, some misinformation?' asked Lupin, his hair gently buffeting round his face, the grey in it now quite strong. He was still a very attractive man. Severus saw her looking and narrowed his eyes.

_Now don't get angry with Remus because I'm looking at him._

_Then stop looking._

_A pixie may look at a Wizard._

_As long as the pixie knows which House it belongs to._

_Very witty. This pixie knows where her loyalties lie._

'It is not inconceivable,' he frowned at Lupin as she grinned slyly over at him, 'but I don't believe so. The source for this is very reliable.' Speaking of subversive information made her stomach lurch and she wondered if he would be called. He had done what Voldemort wanted but at the thought of his name her stomach dropped yet another foot.

It was strange, but since the wedding, there had begun to be a flow of thoughts between them and she couldn't remember when it first began. They both seemed to slip into it. It didn't happen all the time, just occasionally, when they were most attuned to each other, or that there was a need. Perhaps she would ask Albus if there had been something in the ceremony to explain it. Xiomara, noticing her suddenly pale, quizzed her on how she was, as was usual with her, Elrin was glad of the distraction and the Quidditch teacher asked her many questions until the bell for afternoon lessons sounded. At the exact minute, before anyone else moved, Severus got up and briefly flashed his eyes at her and strode away, robes billowing characteristically behind him. Looking for signs of mischief and mayhem amongst passing students, he was a lone shark swimming in his element, and as she watched him go, she ached for his presence, but she neither demanded nor asked for it. He was doing his duty and she was doing hers: the proprieties must be observed.

That evening, as they both sat reading in his study, now 'their chambers', with a glass of wine each and the gentle crack of the low fire punctuating the quiet, he  muttered the occasional oath at his book.

'Popularist!' he said, his teeth gritted. 'He has absolutely no idea about the true significance of Phoenix tears in potion making.' 

'Sestosa says in her Phoenix Commentaries,' she replied,  '– err – chapter twelve I think, that the mythology surrounding them has obscured the central reasoning. She has some interesting things to say.' She had been hard at work on an initial report on Phoenix Culture for Dumbledore who had an impressive stack of crumbling books for her to research and which had kept her busy. She had also started to take an interest in Charms and was assisting Filius in extra classes. Phoenix though, was something that Albus was encouraging her to concentrate on.

'Does she? There is no scholarly critiquing here, just mumbo jumbo nonsense to entertain 3rd rate potion masters,' he snarled in disgust, examining the cover, as if he wondered why he was reading it. It ended up on the fire and the flames ate it up happily. Grimly he watched it burn, then lent over and took her copy of Phoenix Commentaries from her side table. 

The fire was part of the Beltane bonfire, traditionally brought back to lighten and warm the home until the next year. As the evening went on, she just stared into it, not really hearing him, her book forgotten, remembering the past week. Suddenly aware of her contemplation though he did not move his head only his watchful eyes, he decided that neither of them had had much relaxation and that an indulgence was in order. Writing quickly on parchment and opening a window into the soft night, he called Henrietta and in a short time his black owl came elegantly swooping down. He whispered to her and she left without touching base, clutching his message. As he bent over the back of her chair and kissed the top of her head, she put her arms up to reach his head and leant so far back that he could kiss her lips upside down. They tasted heavenly. 

'Severus?' she murmured, 'time for bed?'

'In a minute,' he said, rubbing his eyes, 'I want to finish this. I'll be along if you want to go.' Elrin had a surge of wanting him, and was disappointed that he might be up much later, but nodded in acceptance, and slipped into the inner chamber. There was much to worry about, she thought as she got ready for bed in the huge bathroom, but there was so much peace between them since the wedding, a wide-open peace that stretched like elastic strings between them and that filled her heart with pride and belonging. She sank into the huge bed, the silky eiderdown plump and welcoming, cool sheets shocking her feet. 

_His wand would be useful. Or his body._

Just as she was falling asleep, she felt the bed move as he was trying to get in without disturbing her. 

'Mm,' she murmured face down in the pillow, a satisfied sound, glad to have him there as if she were complete.

Settling, he slipped his hand under the bedclothes and onto her bottom, which was sticking up seductively.

'Ahhh!' she complained, 'your hand is cold.'

'Not any longer,' he smirked and he enfolded her to himself, gathering her as if she were someone scattered, abandoned, lost. Soft moans found their way from her mouth as his arms and his hands wound their way round to her breasts underneath and her waist. 'We are going out Friday night,' he said. 

'Where to?'

'Hogsmede.'

'Isn't it still out of bounds?' she asked, concerned, turning over onto her back so that she could see him. Shadows and the flickering night candle illuminated his face and chest.

'Only to the students,' he murmured, his hand spread wide out over her stomach and her insides lurched to his touch, flooding her with her welcoming juices. 

'And go to what?' she managed to ask.

'You will find out. You might want to wear something agreeable.'

Curiosity piqued her. 'Tell me,' she said.

'No,' he replied, half smiling.

'I want to know,' she said, lifting herself up to him. The one hand on her stomach pressed and his other pushed her head down.

'Turn over,' he ordered.

'No,' she said, deciding to be difficult. 'If you won't tell me where we are going,' she giggled. 

'Now you know better than to thwart me,' he said, delighted at her obstinacy. 'Let me read you,' and he held her face with one hand and peered into it.  She remembered the 3rd year boy who crumbled before him. He sneered at what he saw in her eyes. 'My word is your law.' 

'That's what you think,' she smirked back at him.

'You may live to regret your disobedience,' he said as he kissed her shoulder. 'Hold me. No, not there,' he said as if speaking to a 1st year, and she slipped her hand down his belly fur into the damp heat of his groin and gripped his growing strength, feeling the sway of his testicles against her hand. 

'Is that what you wanted?' she whispered into his groaning mouth. As he manoeuvred himself to get into a better position, she loosened her grip and as quick as a flash he had flipped her onto her stomach. She could not imagine how he had done it, it was such a fast movement, beautiful in its' grace and power, but with her face plunged back into the pillow, she was defenceless as usual. She could not stop laughing.

'Laugh at me in front of my students my dear?' he growled now with his full weight on her. 'That is an extremely dangerous thing to do,'

'I didn't laugh,' she protested.

'Don't lie to me. I saw you, suffocating into your handkerchief.'

'I'm so sorry,' she said, attempting to stifle her merriment. 'I know what your authority means to y…and broke down into laughter again. 'It's just that they think….'

'What do they think?' he breathed softly. 

'That….that you're a…'

'Go on….dig yourself a hole to fall into and I will shovel the dirt over you.'

'…..a vampire.'

The idea was hardly new to him. 'How do you know,' he said coolly, 'that they are not wrong?' His mouth was close to her exposed neck, the length of his body heavy on her and she could feel his ribs on her back, his hardness pinned between his stomach and the cheeks of her bottom and his legs entwined with hers, the bedclothes half off. 'We could give them something to talk about. One bite and you would live eternally with me,' he said, blowing the fine hairs on her neck and then began sucking and biting her soft skin. 'You taste nice,' he added and watched appreciatively as a red mark bloomed on her neck. She juddered under his imitations of consumption of her. 'It's my mark of possession,' he continued, ignoring her movements.

'Don't I have enough indications to say that I am yours?' she managed to say.

'No, never enough, I want it written all over you, in ink. I want to be able to slice you through and find my ownership all the way through.'

'Like Blackpool rock,' she said, sighing.

'Like what?' he asked, preoccupied.

'Muggle confectionary,' she gasped. 'Long, cylindrical and hard….' And her voice trailed away. 'What are you doing?' she asked, slightly disconcerted as he grabbed his own pillows, then pushed them under her hips and swiftly whisked away her own. As he brushed the remaining bedclothes away, she could feel her hips high in the cooler air. He quickly put a warning hand on her neck as he was giving her his full attention. 

'I think it is fairly obvious what I am doing,' he rebuked as he slid his hands over her smoothness, relishing the succulence of her soft, wide rump. Then he softly moved his finger into the swollen fruit that nestled in between her thighs, into the dark crevice and as he began to spin his finger slowly, listened to her beginning to pant. She inhaled loudly clutching the carved wooden bed head, but could get no grip on it.

'Is this mine?' he growled as he shot back up to her head, his hair swirling with him.

'It's mine, if you hadn't noticed,' she replied, inhaling the particular smell of his arousal and wanting him in her arms. She tried to tug at him, but he shifted back.

'Then maybe I will have to make you think differently,' he said pushing his tongue into her interior privacy. She bucked and he was pleased to notice her legs jerk so that she was almost kneeling.

'Are you challenging my authority?'

'What authority,' she replied, desperate.

'The authority of having you under my power. You cannot move an inch.'

'Oh, that power..' she said, moaning.

'I will have my pleasure then,' he said, caressing the soft skin on the back of her thighs with his other hand.

'Then….take it,' she said, beginning to be frantic. 'I'm hardly in a position to stop you.'

'But I want you to say that this is mine.'

'No,' she replied, grinning to herself. 'But it's for your pleasure,' she conceded.

'What did you say?' he asked, swiftly lifting his head as if he were slightly deaf.

'You heard, _Professor_.'

He smacked her smartly on the rump and it stung slightly.

'That is for your cheek,' he said, mock annoyance evident.

'Ow. I said that it's for your pleasure,' she said louder, 'your pleasure only. As well as mine of course.'

'Do you want that pleasure?'

 'Of course I want it.'

'Do you want it? Plain and simple.'

'I want it,' she said, swallowing.

'Now that didn't take much did it?' he said, manoeuvring his tongue and nose in a steady rhythm until she nearly screamed, her nectar in full flow, pulling the sheets out from their moorings and hiding her face in them.

'So whose is it?'

'Mine.' Her legs stiffened. 'Severus….?' Came her muffled voice.

'Mm? My dear?'

She swore under her breath, which made him smile happily.

'Just please….'

'Please what?'

'Take what is yours…..' 

'Ah, so it is mine?'

'Yes, sweetheart, it is yours,' she said, giving in.

'The best torture is pleasure, not pain, you know that?'

'Skip the philosophy Severus,' she growled.

_And get on with it._

In response to her gathering irritation, he mounted her and with a grunt, pushed her legs out with his own, so that they were still wider spread and penetrated into the eager, slippery cavern of her body. She was so silky with need and passion that his movement was easy and clutching her rear, he pushed shallow several times, then deep, rhythmically keeping it up, driving her crazy. 

'You're wonderful,' she whimpered.

'And you,' he panted, 'need some firm discipline.'

As she moved back and forth to his slow thrusting, he leaned over her and with his hands, searched for the sensitive nub at the heart of her sexuality, which urged her to a peak of craving. Gradually, her want began to bloom into a plant of huge proportions, and she cried out for mercy  from him. At that point he took her harder, vehemently, furiously, took her with his might, with the deadly zeal that was locked up in his life. His need slammed into her yielding body like it was the end of the world. Ignoring her cries, which might have been of joy, might have been of pain, he jammed his heat into her with gritted teeth. Flashes of Death Eater meetings, of his trial, of Dumbledore refusing him the Dark Arts post, of the first time he saw her with Fawkes, of  the Veritaserum close to her lips, of her failed Valentine seduction, of him hurling a Forbidden curse at her, of her lying spread-eagled on the library table, of her first reading of the parchments, of her opening the door to him in her wedding dress and her sweet cry in his ear as they rose on the Serpent's back. His taking matched her needs, and her taking of him inside her body as far as it would go matched his needs and at some point there was neither taking nor receiving but one magnificent whole, a bursting of bliss and the whole of their bodies vibrated as they came together. She wasn't sure if she imagined it, but she thought she saw a flash of light as they did so. For a while he lay exhausted on top of her, his limbs abandoned, heart thumping against her, his cheek resting by hers. The ripping orgasm that had swept through her was still echoing in her chest, filled as it was with a kind of solid bliss and her throbbing had slowed to a gentle pulsating while her entire body relaxed. Her soul was so open, so wide open it encompassed the world, encompassed all lovers, all those without love, in relationships and out of them. And as that openness focussed on one dark haired figure, stretched out over her, spent, given of himself, taken his need and satisfied her need, she could not love him enough. Her inadequacy to show how much she adored every sensuous movement of his, every stab of his black eyes, every part of his body, every part of his wizard mastership, every part of his abrasive intelligence, every piece of DNA that made him up out of his ancestors, made her sigh.  It even included his dark history against which he rebelled because it brought him to this point and to her. As he gently moved off her, she took the opportunity to grasp him round the shoulders and hold him to her. Groggily, he snuggled into her arms and laid his head between her breasts. Lying there stroking his hair and holding his head, she kissed his ear and then not even knowing if he was still awake, with hot breath whispered, 

'I never want to lose you.'

'Nor I you. I am yours for as long as you want me,' he said quietly as he drifted off to sleep, leaving her awake and listening to the slap of water below their window.

It was the morning after when a student stammered at his office door about him having a visitor. Someone who wanted to see both he and Elrin. She shook her head at Severus, looking up from her studies, as ignorant as he.

'Who is it boy?' he rasped, suspicious.

'I don't know sir,' panted the anxious 1st year, pale and shaky, desperate to get away from the monster's lair before he had marks taken off Hufflepuff or given detention or was savaged or flogged. P-professor McGonagall  just told me to g-get you. They are in the visitor's drawing room.'

'Thank you Mr.Bones.'

Amazed at the civility, the young boy stood transfixed for a second or two, mouth open.

'Well?' snapped the professor.

'Nothing sir,' he cried, and disappeared as fast as his little legs could carry him.

When they arrived at the door of the drawing room, Severus opened it and indicated that she should enter first. At first, they weren't sure if anyone was still there. The grandness of the room was staggering, sunlight streaming dusty through the French doors with a view out onto the lake. All around them were empty chairs with their heavy brocade and silks scattered around and the grand piano stood unused by the window. A fire was lit although it was perfectly warm and as she went further in, she could see above one of the fireside chairs the top of the head of a grey haired man. He stood up slowly and turned to them both; he was not tall, probably the same height as herself. She almost gasped with the shock, as she realized who it must be. His grey hair was long like Malfoy's and he carried a silver walking stick and to add to his ensemble, around his elegant shoulders fell a deep black cape. Perhaps it was an old fashioned style, for Lucius' imitation was imperfect compared to the casual worn elegance of this upright seventy year old. The face looking at her, was however, Severus'. Or at least it was so like his as to be shocking. His hair wispy and thin, had obviously been black, for his rheumy eyes blazed out like the darkest night and they raked her mercilessly. However, the eyes had little in them, despite the likeness and his Snape nose was over dominant in his face. Severus was behind her and she could hear his intake of breath, but nothing more. The silence was excruciating. The old man obviously found it amusing. 

'Severus.'

'Father,' he said, bowing.

'_Sir,_' he snapped.

'Sir,' the son corrected sharply.

Not being sure what the tension was between them, she looked at Severus.

_You said he was dead._

_I am dead to him. He is to me._

_So two dead men are talking?_

'She does not know does she?'

Elrin felt her hackles rise and heard Aunt Dorothy's snide comment in her head. 

_Whose she, the cat's mother?_

He must have seen the look on her face as well as her stiffened posture. 

'Please do forgive me,' he drawled in a tone not unlike Lucius' where forgiveness was not his intent. 'Let me introduce myself. I am – Sinclair Snape: Snape senior.'

'He is, or rather was, my father.' muttered Severus now at her side protectively. 'And this,' he continued without letting either of them speak and with a hard tone in his voice 'is my wife, Elrin.'

'How do you do, my dear,' and he held out a fine gloved hand and kissed hers. She saw him pause and avoid the ring, but said nothing. She wondered whether she was supposed to curtsey, but decided that she would not.

'Perhaps a hug from a member of the family is in order?' he asked. This man was neither reptilian nor repulsive although his likeness to Severus was disconcerting, but she was unwilling to embrace this abrasive stranger. It was disturbing that the relationship of father and son was misaligned and she had too recently been assaulted by Lucius to be willing to embrace anyone else quite so soon. Without more information, she withheld her affections. She would not be bullied into hugging.

'Perhaps not,' he murmured, almost approvingly. 'My son, that was,' he continued as if Severus were not standing monumentally real in front of him, a powerful echo of his blood line, 'Disgraced himself.'

'Fa - sir,' corrected her husband, gritting his teeth. 'Do we have to go over this?'

'She needs to know Severus,' he explained as if to a child. 'Always the secretive one. You don't change.'

She wanted to scream that he did, but she held her tongue. Aunt Dorothy always pulled that one on her. 

_You're just like your mother. A lazy, muddle headed – weirdo. You never fitted in._

'What is worse, he continues to disgrace the name of wizard.'

She knew, though she could not see, that Severus was clutching thin air with his hands. 

'Why Dumbledore puts up with you I can't imagine.'

Deciding to speak, she asked, 'Are you talking about the trial all those years ago?'

'Yes!' the old man spat. 'You,' he said coldly to her, 'could not imagine what that would be like. _My son – the Death Eater!'_

_'_Father…' Severus pleaded. The longing in his voice shot through her like a spear.

'_Sir!_' shouted his father. He suddenly stopped in his tirade and his eyes flicked down to her stomach.__

'Were you with child that you needed to marry so quickly?' 

Severus' body went rigid in fury. 'You dare insult my wife. No, she was _not_.'

'_Sir_, Severus.' The old man seemed pleased at the rage he produced. 'You dare insult my wife - _Sir_.'

His son was shivering with rage.

'But to make matters worse, he is still up to his tricks, are you not Severus?' 

She glanced at her lover and observed a flicker of a warning there.

_He knows nothing._

_Why don't you tell him?_

_He must not know. _

'You use this roof over your head; abuse Dumbledore's integrity and loyalty to boot by sneaking off to indulge in your old dirty life. Death Eater _scum_!' It was the turn of the father to shake.

Severus was silent.

She clutched his hand and since they were standing so close, could not be seen holding hands. She squeezed his and he answered.

'You're a lousy and mean teacher too. You should have gone into research.'

'After – afterwards, I had little option,  – sir.'

'You are totally prejudiced against other houses. You put Slytherin into dishonour with your favouritism and disposition. Slytherin was always proud, oh, yes, and championed excellence, but you, you have taken it to an all time low! Oh, I hear all about it, mark my words.' This last was delivered with all the condescension he could manage, which was not difficult. She wasn't sure how much more Severus could take, but his hand squeezed hers.

'I think you should know what kind of loser you have married,' he said triumphantly. 'He always was, and always will be the runt of the family.'

Stung, she lifted herself up as tall as she could manage.

'I married a man I am proud of,' she seethed, ice dropping from every syllable. 'And always will be.'

Her chill found an entry in the old man's armour. 

'Loyalty. Fascinating. You found yourself a rare woman, Severus.  I admit that,' he said smiling at her. 'Even if she is _a half-witch.'_

The shock hit her but he responded fast. 

'Elrin is not a half-witch, _she's a Sorcerer!_' He had obviously not meant to say it, but his patience had snapped. His father found it easy to get under his skin like no one else. Both she and the old man were astounded.

'IS she?' asked the old man, surprise in his voice.

_Am I?_

_Yes._

_Why did you not say? And what does it mean?_

_I will tell you later._

'Have you – ' turned Snape senior to her suddenly, 'taken the Patriarchium?'

It was her turn to freeze. 

_What did he know?_

_It's all right. You can say if you want to._

'Yes I have,' she said, unsure of why she was admitting it but at least omitted how as well as the all important cure.

'Well, well, all is not lost then. Something even rarer and spirited too. Someone who values the old ways. I cannot imagine how you managed to acquire her Severus.'

'He did not pick me out like a breeding horse,' she snapped.

She could see where he got many of his mannerisms from, the family style and much of his looks, but the complexity of the man whose hand gripped hers was a completely different being and was never so obvious as at that moment.

'Pity the Patriarchium doesn't work the other way around. Perhaps you could knock some sense into this husband of yours.'

_Not son._

He began to loom over his father.

'I forget how tall you are Severus. Like your mother I suppose.'

At the mention of her name, Severus growled. 

'You should have given them to me and _He Who Must Not Be Named_ would never have got them!'

'He hasn't got them,' snapped the younger man.

'You must have given them to him – while you were – _with_ him!' the older shouted.

'No,' said Severus quietly, looking away to the fire. 'I never did. I don't know why. They never seemed relevant. They were a locked secret.' He lifted his head up quickly, 'And you thought all this time that I had given them away to _– The Dark Lord?'_

'Frankly yes. But the guardianship should have come to me!' the old man hissed and she realized the real core of his bitterness against his son. There lay the nugget of poison.

'But no, her favourite, she had to leave the parchments to you! An eleven year old lanky, greasy child with his nose everlastingly in his books!'

Horrified, she waited for Severus to say or do something, but he stood rigid.

_Sweetheart?_

There was no answer to her call. He was frozen.

'I believe' she said with a strong directive in her voice that echoed in the endless silence.  'that it's time to go, Severus.' He whipped his head round to her and stared at her for a long second or two. She wondered if she had said the right thing and her heart almost stopped beating.

'_Yes!_ It is time for us to depart,' he snarled and swiftly bowed to his father before pulling her out, leaving the old man in the empty room.

He would not talk about it, and had brushed off any questions before she had hardly opened her mouth. That day was a particularly busy one for the both of them and ten minutes later they were in the headmaster's office. Having handed in her initial examination of the books on Phoenix culture, she was waiting for Severus who was talking about potions exams to Albus, when Fawkes yawned and woke up. 

'Good morning Elrin,' he murmured, idly stretching his wings. She walked down the steps to him.

'Good morning Fawkes, I missed you at our wedding.'

'Oh, but I did see it,' he blinked at her. Surprised, she stared at him.

'I didn't see you.'

'I was on the north turret.'

'You couldn't have seen much from there,' she said, slightly offended. 

'I saw plenty,' he said, swivelling his head to her. ' I don't have eagle eyes for nothing. They're pretty good you know, better than humans.'

'Oh.'                                                                                               

'It was a splendid sight. I am glad that you both have made it.'

 Severus, having finished his talk with the old man, joined her and nodded curtly to the old bird. 

'I congratulate you both,' continued Fawkes. 'Would you be kind enough to pass on the message to our dear friend here?' he twinkled, not unlike Dumbledore himself.

'He asked if I would pass on his congratulations to you,' she said, smiling up at Severus.

'I am honoured,' said the professor, bowing low to the phoenix, lower than he had to his father.

'He said that he is honoured,' she translated for him.

'I understood without words,' replied the bird dryly.

'Thank you from me,' she said awkwardly and politely, but really wanted to talk about matters other than pleasantries. 'Fawkes, we made the potion, or rather Severus made it from our translation.' 

'More congratulations seem to be in order,' Fawkes replied, tipping his head sideways a little. 'That is splendid.'

'We haven't had much time to bask in the glow of the achievement. It was stolen out of his office.'

Fawkes froze for a second and then rather too casually asked, 'And you know who took it?'

She grasped her husband's sleeve as he was about to walk off, uncomprehending their speech and having urgent work to do.

'He congratulates you on the potion,' she said. 'I've just told him about your making of it.' Severus' face changed from politeness to hostility immediately at the thought of it.

'And you told him – about what happened to it?' he snarled.

'Yes, I did,' and then turned back, 'Fawkes, Severus is pretty sure that it's in the wrong hands.'

'By wrong, you mean….'

'Voldemort, yes, through Malfoy.'

She translated backwards and forth from the bird to the potions master, from her husband to the bird.

'It worked too,' she said as she got excited at the thought, 'Remus let Severus use him as a guinea pig, and he's a changed man, though still his good self,' she added quickly. 'He no longer transforms. And we used a little we had left on me as well.'

'That's excellent,' said Fawkes, still thoughtful. 'Have you noticed any 'changes' to it since you – since you made it?'

'Yes, several times. An improvement each time, gaining in power. We _know_.'

The phoenix nodded slowly. 'Magnificent, magnificent.' But he looked grave, for all his words.

'It would not be wise,' he said, 'to allow the potion to be turned.'

'Turned?' she asked. Severus looked disgusted when she told him what the bird had said. 

'What does he mean?' she asked.

'It can be changed to a substance that is diametrically opposed to its' inherent properties,' said Severus quietly but with a deadly note to his voice. 'In other words, to evil instead of good, poison instead of healing. Though there would be few that would be able to do it.'

Fawkes understood what was being said without translation. She felt her stomach plummet. Something so potent could do so much damage.

'There is one thing that you must not forget,' said the phoenix, pulling himself up straight and regarding her with his enormous eye, his powerful beak in profile, 'that you two have a rare thing going. It is not insignificant.'

'Well, not to us,' she blushed.

'What did he say?' demanded Severus warily.

 'Not just to you,' stated the bird.

When she told him hesitatingly, Severus narrowed his eyes at Fawkes. 'Ask him what he means by that.'

The old bird knew the question.

'I just repeat that what you are together is not insignificant,' and to the potion master's chagrin and her disappointment, he said 'Goodbye my dear friends,' and tucked his head into his wing.

Growling, Severus marched out of the office. 

'Damn mystical creatures, always obscure,' he muttered, his robes flapping by hers as they walked away, she to the library, he to his class for which he was almost late. 

'Perhaps he can't say more. If we knew completely what he meant, it might not be helpful to us.' she suggested.

He sneered. 'I prefer a straightforward creature like Sampeer. Good down to earth little fellow who doesn't talk much. No intellectual games with him.'

'I thought you regarded Fawkes highly?' 

'I do, but give a Phoenix an inch and he'll confuse you to death.' He stopped. 'Have you never heard the expression?'

'No,' she laughed. 'He doesn't seem confusing to me.'

He shook his head at the wonderment of women and phoenixes. 

'I will no doubt see you later,' he said quickly kissing her as they parted, there being no one around. He smelt so good and she was slightly shocked that his physicality and his powerful psyche could still be so overwhelming to her in an everyday situation. She wanted to buckle at the knees but recovered sufficiently to ask him again where they were going that evening, but he had already swept away, his shoes sounding softly in the corridor.

'I do not imagine that you will want to go by floo powder,' he said grazing his eyes up and down her body, 'not in those clothes. It is also particularly dangerous at the moment.'

She pulled her heavy cloak around her in the cold evening and stared at him in the moonlight, the orb above them, huge and soft, bathed them with its smoldering fullness.

'Don't you trust me?' he laughed condescendingly at her.

She looked from him to the broomstick, level and waiting in front of them, mid air, ebony black and larger than she had ever seen one before and back to him. He waited in silence, the breeze lifting his hair and his cloak in the darkness. 

'Of course I do. But this is not something I have ever done before, and really, it scares me.'

'You ride.'

'Not high up in the sky though. Perhaps we _could_ go by floo powder,' she said imploringly.

'You are chickening out.'

'I am.'

'We could go by horse…?' she pleaded.

'It is too dangerous at this time. This is safer.'

She continued to stare aghast at the transport.

'Darling,' he said softly and then swiftly changed to firm, 'get on that broomstick. _Now_.'

'The Pat…….' and stopped, hastily, going close so that only he could hear, 'I am no longer under the Patriarchium and don't you forget it,' she hissed.

'I never forget it,' he said gravely, looking into her eyes that were dark in the light, then growled dangerously, 'Now get on it, _my lady_.'

Sulking, she flounced onto it, long shiny black boots flashing as she arranged her clothes. He watched her with approval, then mounted behind her. 'Now turn around and – put your legs over mine.' Puzzled, she did as he bid her, shifting her bare thighs over his trousered ones. 'But then I would have to –?'

'Yes, put your arms around my chest. As she struggled to understand what he had in mind, he said, 'think of a baby monkey clinging to its' mother.' He sneered, 'it is the way we carry small children or the sick elderly.'

'Oh thanks, Severus.'

He held her with one arm around her protectively and with the other, grasped the front end of the broom. She could feel his muscles manoeuvring beneath hers, shrank into his chest, and put her face into his thick woolly scarf. It wasn't wildly comfortable.

_'Perge __Attorlathe!'_

Her insides lurched as they lifted off smoothly, upward. She clutched so hard round his chest he winced and her breath came in small gasps but his chin on the top of her head held her steady. Daring to look out from behind his cloak, she could see that they were level with the treetops and she could see into one of the highlighted windows where Minerva was working late.

'It is imperative that you defrost,' he said, before they went any higher. You are safer relaxing.'

'Defrost?' she squeaked.

'Do you know what the name of my broomstick - _Attorlathe_ means?'

She wondered what he was talking about. 

_Why would she want to know?****_

'No.'

'It means 'Venomloather'.

'Oh.' 

They went a little higher and she could see Dumbledore's bathroom windows, higher still. The trees of the forest looked like massed broccoli below. The thought of plummeting into them was unthinkable. The lake further along had an oil sleek sheen to it, the castle reflected darkly on its' surface.

'And do you know how much I love you?' he said.

'But you're also crazy,' she panted, but her heart was gradually beginning to slow down. She realized that he was attempting to distract her, and it was beginning to work.

'I know,' he replied.

It said something about her increasing confidence, that she was able to remark, 'You realize that this position is a very – interesting one.' 

He smiled, though she could not see it.

'It certainly is. We will have to try it some day,' he murmured, kissing her cheek and squeezing her. 

'Now I want you to turn around and sit properly.'

Frozen in position, she could not imagine complying, but something in her took some courage.

'You _will_ hold me.'

'I will hold you.'

Carefully, and without looking down, she moved backwards a little, clutching his arms tight. Swallowing, she kept her eyes on him and slowly manoeuvred one leg over, her bare thigh above her boots flashing white in the gloom. Not able to even express her fears, she stopped, panting. Part of her cloak flapped which shook her.

'Now the other one,' he said calmly, waiting.

Another gulp of air, and she moved her other leg over the broomstick until she was facing the right way. Quickly he grasped her as she began to shake and pulled her in to him so that she could feel his body encompassing hers and almost fused together, thigh to thigh, back to chest, bottom to groin. Nothing was said, but she felt him kiss her hair and then he muttered to Attorlathe and it started to tilt forwards and move forward swiftly. She did not scream. She could not. Bats zipping around them and the occasional drifting owls did not interrupt their flight as the air whipped round their faces and flung their cloaks out, while he had to push her hair from his face in order to see where they were going. Swooping down was the worst. She let out a quiet scream, but hecareered onwards,the moon lighting up the murky landscape below and the drifting clouds above. Despite herself, there was something about it that was beginning to appeal to her and she began to relax.'That's better,' he said, as he felt her slowly gaining confidence and beginning to look around for landmarks. 

'That looks like Hogsmede to me,' she said.

'It is.'

'I can see the railway – and the station,' she cried, delighted, forgetting her fears.

They were getting closer and she could see the huddle of small buildings, and what was presumably the high street, though they were not near enough to identify them. 

He seemed to be heading for the far end of the street. Never in a million years she thought, would she ever get used to going downward. All her instincts screamed for help, all her thoughts of doom rushed up to greet her and she was convinced that she was going to die.

The Bug and Blanket was on top form for Saturday night. Her mood was high, perhaps because of the relief at still being alive and she remained slightly disorientated for a short while. Their garments and his broomstick was taken from them, his outfit a fresh plain black frockcoat with white silk at throat and wrists. When she took off her cloak and revealed her outfit, the waiter couldn't take his eyes off her. Her bustier, a mix of green and purple velvet laced up the front, showed her small waist perfectly with its' boned structure, but it was her green skirt that really attracted his attention. Gathered up at the front, the skirt revealed her thighs and above-the-knee shiny black boots. Severus glared at him and the young man swiftly turned back into a waiter. Smoothing her hair, which he said was fine, she followed the waiter through the low candlelit tables, carpet soft under their feet. She had forgotten what a deep carpet was like. There was nothing like a well-oiled restaurant to soothe the human psyche. It promised luxurious consumption, of the servicing of one's every desire; it spoke of security, of a wealth of sensuous delights, of eyeing others for delight or consumption, of intimate sharing and perhaps a drowning sexuality afterwards. They settled down in comfort in the same corner with high backed wooden settles where he had proposed toher. Behind a wooden partition they could eat in peace, but could also see out and watch the room if they wanted to with it's quietly chattering inhabitants and the accompanying clink of silver on china. A hag in the corner was crooning low and softly in the background accompanied by a small jazz band. She had a beautiful voice. No one looking at her would have believed it.

'This is wonderful Severus,' she said as they waited for the menu. 'What a wonderful idea.'

'I fear my work has meant that you have had little that you deserve.'

'We are both working, this is fine.'****

The meal was delicious of course and they were very hungry, the cold air stimulating their appetite. The lamb chops were particularly delightful, with Onions and Tapenade, Cabbage and Parsnip Purée (she avoided the Monkfish, though it did look appetising). Afterwards he had the Espresso Scented Chocolate Truffles, which were superb and she had Pear Upside Down Cake with Honey Ice cream and Crème Fraîche. To her horror, looking at the price on the menu, he had ordered Chateau Margaux, Premier Grand Cru Classe 1st growth 1790, which she understood was a Cabernet Saivignon.

'Severus…' she had protested later.

'This is a special occasion do you not think?' he said. 'I am not normally extravagant with my money.'

'Except on potion ingredients,' she reminded him, her fork halfway to her mouth with lamb and Tapenade. 

'True,' he smirked, his mouth full. They ate comfortably with each other although it was particularly strange to be facing each other at a mealtime, the glow from the low candle hovering on the table, its' light quivering and sparkling on the silverware and the glasses and on their faces. Dining out, and in such an exotic place, was such a rare experience, that she was quietly agog. It was also wonderful not to have to watch the students, or be watched by them, so they both relaxed for the first time in a long time. While talking to her he absently licked his finger and she thought her heart might stop for all time. He noticed her sudden interest and smirked, continuing to do it deliberately and then traced his lower lip while keeping his eyes on her, his wedding band glinting in the light. It took everything she had to remain on her side of the table.

It had been a long day. She wanted to talk about what had happened with his father but felt that it needed exact timing. As usual he was hiding behind his persona, but she could tell that he had been deeply affected. After talking about various school matters, they eventually slipped into a kind of dream state, a stupor of good food and good company and the wine was something she had never experienced before or even dreamt of.

She slipped her leg against his and rubbed it slowly. He half smiled and sat back, savouring his liqueur and she began to talk to him quietly, gently.

'You lied to me,' she said softly.

He looked puzzled for a second, then realized. 'Oh, my father. I have not seen him for twelve years since my trial.' He affected nonchalance, but lowered his head, fiddling with his glass. 'He disowned me then. I deserved it. I could not blame him. I was dead to him, and he was to me. But even though I was acquitted and it is generally known that I had put my life at risk against The Dark Lord, not once but many times to help rectify my foolishness and despite my unending hard work at the school since, he has not altered his opinion of me one speck of dragon's blood.' It was clear that his father's stance staked him through his deepest heart. 'He told me that I no longer existed, that I was no longer his son.'

'I'm so sorry,' she said staring at the opening of the mask that protected him. They continued in silence. 

'He came today nevertheless. He asked for you.'

'I cannot imagine why he came. The discussion seemed to be about warning you about me, which is a little on the late side I would have thought.'

Then, not being able to stand to be away from him physically, she joined him on his side of the settle, which was a considerably more private side than hers and massaged his back.

'I think his hurt and anger may go further back than that,' she ventured.

'Oh, the – guardianship legacy? Maybe so,' he sighed. 'He loved my mother, but was jealous of her guardianship and her love for me. He automatically believed that he should have had the parchments because he was the man of the house. It has always, since the protection began, gone to the most appropriate person regardless of gender. He just did not understand. He felt it undermined his authority. To see a mere boy taking what he felt to be his duty…'

'She must have felt that you were the right one. And she was right.'

Feeling and then rubbing the knots in his back, though she could not massage them properly from that angle, made her feel that she was doing something useful. His hand rested on her thigh and as the table shielded her lower half, he squeezed it idly.

'The way your father's so upright and traditionalist – reminds me of…' and she hesitated.

'Malfoy?'

'Yes.'

'He belongs to old-school wizard tradition. The Death Eaters have imitated the style to represent a culture they despise and fear, but also greedily desire. They believe it to be the culture of repression and power. Sometimes it was, but it was never meant to be that.' 

'You are a pure blood?'

'Yes, but I don't see anything special in it. Not all pure bloods are like Malfoy and his ilk. Though they would like to think so.'

'But he hates the Death Eaters. That means he's a good man does it not?'

'On the side of a healthy wizarding world, yes.  However, my father mixes with many types, including those that he is unaware are dangerous. There are many ears to hear what he speaks freely about and he will not be told so I hear. So he cannot know what I am doing. There is another aspect to it, that, in believing it so fully gives credibility to my…purpose,' and he sighed, 'Which makes what I am doing now, or appear to be doing now, unspeakable to him.' She moved to massage his neck.

'You sit badly.'                                                                                        

'Ahhh, that is so good.'

'He would be proud of you if he knew what you'd done, even since I have known you,' she whispered.

'Maybe.'

'And I am so proud of you,' he said turning to her, his black eyes steady. 'Not many women stand up to him and survive.'

'There is something else. What, may I ask,' she said, stopping her rubbing, 'is a Sorcerer?' 

'They are someone who might be mistaken for a Muggle because they tend towards wandless magic. They have the gift of exceptional invocation and are usually spontaneous as well. It is not often used but when their magic is released, it is very powerful.' He pushed a lock or two out of her face and continued to search her face. 'And you are very powerful, you know that.'

'So are you.'

'In a different way.'

'In a different way.'

They stared at one another for what seemed a long time. The chink of glasses and murmuring laughter from the room broke through their contemplation.

'So the Phoenix song comes out as part of my being this?' she asked.

'Yes. Sorcerers are quite rare.'

'What is Albus?' she asked, remembering the wedding ceremony.

'He is a High Mage. He would need to be, to be more than a match for a Necromancer.' She looked puzzled. 'The Dark Lord. Albus is also an Elementalist. I believe he began as one.'

'Hence the four elements he called?'

'Yes.'

'And you are?'

'An Alchemist. My domain of course, being Potions.'

'So why did you not tell me that I was a Sorcerer before?'

'We hadn't realized. Or rather I believe Dumbledore suspected quite some time ago, but he was waiting for me to come to that conclusion. Typical Albus. It's just a name, a label. You already know what powers you possess.'

'Still, it gives me some credibility instead of being known as the Muggle or the half-witch.'

'Do you desire credibility?'                                      

'I – I would be a liar if I said I didn't. Though I wouldn't hold it up as the most important thing to me. She stood to pick up her drink from the other side of the table. Then as she turned back, stood over him to say 'my credibility with my life partner is more important. I am proud of you, you know that?'

'The lanky greasy child?' he sneered, looking up at her, glass in hand.

'The lanky beautiful man with his nose still in his books,' she said and leaned over him, putting her hands on the wood behind him and with a boot-encased knee thrust it between his legs so that he moved his own out in yielding response, trapping him firmly in his seat. Then she kissed him firmly while shielding him from any possible prying eyes with her body. Moving his arms out, glass in hand, he opened his mouth to allow her access and received her probing tongue, and she felt him moan in his throat. He relished her, tasting the mix of smooth alcohol, rich food and her own demanding mouth. They broke apart a little, breath shortened as a flood of emotion roared through both of them. He lifted his mouth up again to her as if pleading for nourishment and succour and his hands lifted to her waist, wanting to pull her down onto him, but stopped himself as they were in a public place. He couldn't be sure that someone would intrude on them in their secluded corner. The journey home wouldn't take long. 

It took them a couple of seconds to realize that someone was screaming. Then there were shouts and the sound of shattered china coming from downstairs. Jerking away from their personal world, they saw the nearest alarmed guests made for the stairs. No one got very far however, as there were several Dementors in the doorway.

_There is a tribute that has to do with food in the restaurant to Gwen's story 'Redemption.' Perhaps you would like to try it? Link on my favourite stories page._

_Perge - Go On (Latin) _

Attorlathe- Venomloather  (Anglo-Saxon)


	27. iron bars will bend and break

_You may already know Snape in Love by Rickfan.  May I point out three other great stories with completely different styles - Domina Rising by Arachne's Child, Redemption by Gwenn  and last but certainly not least, A Dark Herbal by The Stars Hold Nine Serpents. The angles on our friend Severus Snape are all excitingly different and the quality of writing superb. All have great OCs, which I understand is quite rare. _

_Not that I want you to rush off before you've finished mine of course!_

_Superwitch_

London Bridge is falling down,

Falling down, falling down.

London Bridge is falling down,

My fair lady.

Iron bars will bend and break,

Bend and break, bend and break,

Iron bars will bend and break,

My fair lady**__**

Chapter 26

They broke apart a little, breath shortened as a flood of emotion roared through both of them. He lifted his mouth up again to her as if pleading for nourishment and succour and his hands lifted to her waist, wanting to pull her down onto him, but stopped himself as they were in a public place. He couldn't be sure that someone would intrude on them in their secluded corner. The journey home wouldn't take long. 

It took them a couple of seconds to realize that someone was screaming. Then there were shouts and the sound of shattered china coming from downstairs. Jerking away from their personal world, they saw alarmed guests make for the stairs. No one got very far however, as there were several Dementors in the doorway.

**Iron bars will bend and break**

Chapter 27

She felt the cold hit her like death itself, like plummeting into the earth riding a broomstick. From some distance she heard Severus hiss and snarl as she sank against the table, pulling against the tablecloth, hearing the crash of glass and cutlery around her. There were two realities intertwined, the restaurant with its' chaos and the monstrous life that seemed to swim within her – flashes of Voldemort licking his juddering lips in front of her, his reptilian breath covering her like white mist and Malfoy's mocking laugh in the background. 

_There was no hope left. There was no one to help her. All was lost. She had failed and she was going to die horribly, or worse still, live horribly. _

Sinking into the freezing depths of her psyche, she heard a distant voice that she thought she knew, cry '_Expecto Patronus'_ and at the same time was aware that from out of a silvery mist that hovered in the air came the form of a panther that was deepest velvet black. Fascinated, she stared at it and the shimmering glow around it like a halo. It was beautiful and deadly. She caught a flash of red mouth and green eyes as it turned its powerful sinuous body towards the hooded shapes in the centre of the room. As it did so, she could not hold onto the image or the room itself and sunk back into the horror of her life as it crashed and burned, useless and worthless, pointless and endless. It felt as if she had drifted for aeons, floating in hopelessness and a grey world. There was only the deathly drone of her family and their lifeless friends, a circle of grey lives surrounding her, suffocating her, beating upon her. There was nothing. There was only existence, and hardly that. The next moment she felt cold air that seemed to stimulate rather than possess her. She felt something being forced into her mouth.

'Chew. Dammit, chew.'

She knew the voice; it tore through her like an ancient wound. 

_Where had she heard it before? What did it mean? She wasn't hungry. Where was her mother? Was it her father speaking to her?_

She felt her head being held and a good familiar smell that engulfed her and then beyond it a sudden waft of garbage in the air.    

'_Elrin!_'

Elrin? Who would be calling her that? No one knew that name.

She felt fingers on her lips and she gradually moved her tongue and whatever was in her mouth tasted good. 

_Oh yes, chocolate. Gorgeous. Black melting chocolate. She must be at the seaside. Where are the seagulls? I can't hear them._

She was suddenly aware of lying in someone's arms in a cold sweat and she could see a roof above her, and a little window and then the night sky. Above them some stars through the clouds.

'Elrin!' shouted the voice, an angry edge to it. She would take no notice. It would pass away, like everything else. 

Her arm fell down and her hand knocked against a cold damp surface and she jerked awake. Severus' dark face was above her, chocolate truffles in hand and he shifted her upright at once. 

'Severus…' she began, holding her arm. 'I knocked my hand,' she whined up at him. 

'Elrin, you must get up,' he commanded.

'More chocolate?'

He swiftly thrust more at her.

'Steady,' she complained, mouth full. 'Mustn't be greedy.' He lifted her up onto her legs, but they didn't appear to work very well. 

'Eat,' he ordered.

'Where are we?' she asked stupidly, gazing around, chocolate in hand. Dustbins were scattered around, their contents spewed out onto the cobbled yard. Then she realized they must be at the back of the kitchens of the restaurant, and she remembered, remembered the …..words failed her. 

'They…' she began.

'It is imperative to get out of here. Now.'

'Okay.' She was beginning to feel the urgency in him and made an effort. He held her while she returned to herself. 

'Let's go then,' she said, making a tentative step and managing it. Reality was beginning to shake her awake. 

He could begin to see the glitter of consciousness in her eyes. 'Let me read you,' he said, tilting her face towards him. Looking into his eyes in the half-lit alleyway made her want to sink back down again. Reading her was not a good idea from her point of view.

'_Accio Attorlathe!_' he shouted and almost immediately, his black broomstick clattered out of the back door and into his hand. He placed it in front of them both and she got on with a great deal more confidence than some hours before. Waiting for him, adjusting her clothes, she waited in vain. He stood there in the dark, wand out, muttering.

'Elrin,' he said steadily, calmly as he finished, 'Go home.' She nearly fell off it.

'What?' she cried, aghast. 'Are you crazy?'

'Go home. Attorlathe is set to autopilot. It will take you safely home.'

'No way,' she said, beginning to get off. He grasped her arm.

'Do not make things difficult,' he growled as he closed in on her, looming over her. 'Take my cloak,' and he pushed it towards her. 'I couldn't find yours.' Despite herself, she fastened it.

_He could not be serious._

'You're insane if you think I am going to travel on this alone.'

'It's the same balancing act as a bicycle. Grip on and just allow it to take you where it needs to go.'

'No.'

'Oh, for the love of the Patriarchium….' He snarled between gritted teeth, his voice low as he bent down towards her in anger. Opening her eyes wide, she was about to explode in fury, when he said,

'Elrin, this is serious. There are not just a few Dementors here. There is a take-over, a raid. I have to do something about as many people as possible. And to see if any of the students are out here. You realize the danger they will be in.'

'You said it was out of bounds to them.'

'When has that ever stopped anyone?'

'I'll come with you,' she decided, beginning to get off the broom.

'No you won't,' he snapped. 'You would be more of a hindrance.'

'Thanks.'

'You don't have immunity against their kind. Stop arguing and go.'

'I can do some damage,' she said proudly.

'Yes, and it would be indiscriminate. In order to damage the Dementors, your energy would damage everyone else too. Especially the students.' 

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see an approaching figure in a black cloak coming out of the dark. It strode towards them and she realized that he was wearing a mask. She stiffened. Severus followed her gaze. 

'You have to obey me, my darling,' he whispered as he adjusted her cloak.

'Severus!' cried the figure, clapping him on the back. 'Come and join the fun.'

'Crabbe,' he replied snappily, 'I have work to do.'

'What could you be doing that's more important than this then?' he sneered, slapping his wand in his hand like a bludger.

'Think man, there are students I need to round up.'

'What for?'

Severus glared at the imbecility of the man. 'Dementors loose on students? It may not matter about the others, but there's the Malfoy boy, as well as yours and Goyle as well as others. Whose brilliant idea was this not to give me any warning? I could have kept them in.'

'Oh yea. Oh, they'll be alright,' said Crabbe, obviously dizzy with blood lust.

'They will when I manage to get to them and take them out of here. I'm just sending my wife off home.'

'Oh yeah. I want to see this,' he said happily, almost drooling with curiosity. He had obviously been told about the Patriarchium.

In desperation at going as well as leaving him, she clutched out at Severus' hand and he grasped it and leant in to enfold her and she held his body tight against hers, feeling the heat and the whole solidity of him. What preciousness lay in this body pressed to hers. She passed her essence to him and he passed his essence to her. 

_Tell Dumbledore._

_Of course._

_You will be fine._

_All right. You go and do what you need to do._

_I love you._

_I love you._

'Get going then woman,' he snapped at her, brusquely waving his hand. 'We are wasting time.' 

She struggled which was not a pretence, glared at him, then gave in.

'Yes, my lord,' she said faintly, breaking out in another sweat. She had to do it.

_That was a good touch. He had told her about addressing the hierarchy in archaic terms.  _

'Relax.'

'First solo?' asked Crabbe astounded.

'Yes.'

'Oh, wicked!' he looked delighted as if he might actually witness her falling off.

'_Perge Attorlathe_.'

Her sudden fear for Severus kept her less fearful for her position, and as the broomstick lifted smoothly, she balanced well, though her knuckles were white with gripping on so rigidly.

_That is not bad. Defrost remember?_

_Mind Crabbe. He might have heard me arguing with you._

_Don't worry about him. You just get home._

And she could see, as she got to tree top height, both of them hurrying away. 

As she lifted up into the empty sky above everything, she shivered uncontrollably, and could see below her burning torches and people milling about, could hear shouts of anger and thrill and fear. Dementors and masked figures surged down the streets and she saw people clutch one another and witnessed them fall, or hide or try to escape. There were scattered groups and couples and individuals, some battling. Surges of power could be seen coming from wands and the returning fire. Some houses were burning lifting smoke into the evening darkness and the hot smell reached her. The whole dreadful landscape of terror lay before her as she swept away from it. Hogsmede, the ancient and most safe village in England was being pillaged and plundered. She wondered if she could see Severus below and wished she had not had to give in to him, but supposed he was right. He might have spent his time protecting her. There were others needing his help, and she could imagine him scowling and growling while he was putting his life in danger.

She found it difficult to remember, when she got home, what the journey had been like, she just recalled flashes of clouds and a hidden moon and an owl that passed too close to her. She remembered the chilling fear as she nearly became unbalanced. She also remembered a small visitor landing on her. About to brush it off in fear and loathing, she discovered that it was Sampeer.

'Hello sweetheart,' she had said, relieved. 'I nearly squashed you.' He quivered there, clinging onto the material of the cloak and she was never so glad to see someone. 

'Come to see me home?' she had said, feeling faintly stupid at talking to the bat, who did not reply. Gently brushing his furry head with a soft finger while it opened his wings over her as if in protection, she felt that he understood somehow. It had made her feel so much better and the castle was soon in sight. She didn't retain the memory of how she got down. Only that she landed a little heavily on solid earth and grass, and rushed, wobbly legged, into the castle. 

The school seemed to erupt into ordered chaos almost as soon as Albus had given the warning to Minerva. Their red alert system seemed to work well. Prefects and Staff tore round gathering up the students they could find except the ones that had slunk off to Hogsmede. Of course Harry and company were missing as well as a couple of Slytherins including Draco.  Minerva, her lips pursed and of ferocious countenance, was beside herself, her green robes billowed out behind her and her black hat bobbed up and down each and every corridor, hustling, bustling and shooing errant students. Tides of children carrying small suitcases came flowing out from everywhere.

Elrin was on her way to the dungeons when, accompanied by a deep roar which seemed to come from the deepest hell, the world seemed to shake like a dog with fleas. Falling on the flags of stone underneath her felt like embracing chilly tombstones but she held onto them with outstretched arms and scrabbling hands, head flat on the floor. The shuddering broke the stained glass windows out, scattering glass everywhere. Between the reverberations she shouted to a nearby group of first years to cover their heads. Pieces of ceiling began to shower down. 

'Get under that doorway – now –' she yelled as soon as she could and they staggered to a heavy archway with a solid old oak door as another shiver shook the place. She grabbed the smallest and most terrified and scooped them round her.

_What the hell?_

Bits of stonework continued to fall and crumble off the walls. Peeves shot past them, and much to her surprise, he did not look particularly happy. She would have thought he would be delighted. Instead he looked grim. Steadily, steadily the tremors passed. Slowly, they rose from their place and she told them to get to the main entrance, and wait until someone in authority gave them the all clear to go outside – away from the castle but to stay in the grounds. She couldn't believe she was saying it. With white faces they obeyed. Roaming around, she found stray students, one grappling with their pet rat and another who had lost her suitcase and sent them packing. House elves were on the move too. Flying down some stairs was Dobby who was the only house-elf carrying a suitcase, and as he tripped, a case full of yellow socks flew open, spilling onto the floor. There was no way that she would ask why he wanted a case full of them, but silently helped him thrust them all back in as he muttered to himself.

'Madam Snape,' he squeaked, 'must leave.'

 As she sent him off, agreeing with him, Albus appeared.

'Elrin, you must depart from the building now,' he said calmly as he approached in his customary stately way. Judging by his demeanour, there may not have been an emergency.

'What's happened? It feels like – an earthquake, but that's not possible is it?'

 'No, it is not a natural occurrence. Someone has been tampering with the earth. They have found a loophole in the laws…'

_No prizes were for guessing whom he was talking about. _

'You must go,' he said, sweeping away from her, gathering yet another stray student.

'I will Albus, but I need to get to Severus' study. There are – things - that need to be rescued. If he lost them…'

'Of course, but be quick, you must be quick. There is little time,' as he disappeared down a corridor.

Picking up her robes she ran full tilt down to the dungeons to his office to find Xiomara bending over his desk. Panting to a halt, she stood transfixed, confused. Xiomara stood up, papers in hand. There was silence as they stared at one another and the Quidditch teacher's face was not a pleasant one. The castle walls had shaken, and now it was the turn of her mind's walls to shake and shiver. 

'What are you doing?' she asked stupidly.

'What does it look like? Sneered Xiomara, searching hurriedly through yet more papers on Severus' desk, as if Elrin were not there, or did not count. 

_The one female friend that she had made here. The jokes, the laughter, the shared secrets._

'Oh don't look so pathetic.'

'You took it didn't you?' snapped Elrin, her face red with anger. She did not say what had been taken, just in case she was wrong. Xiomara moved towards the window.

'The Potion? Of course, you silly girl,' she drawled as she walked slowly to and fro, eyeing Elrin up and down cynically. 'Draco found out and told Lucius. Lucius, naturally told me.' 

'You and Lucius?'

'Yes,' she said smirking, pleased with herself. 'Lucius and me, mmm. Exceptional in bed, let me tell you.' Elrin thought of him and shuddered. Almost in response to her memories, the ground shook a little and the jars on the shelves rattled furiously, but nothing more happened. Both of them clung to something while it eased. Some dust flew down from the ceiling. Elrin's eyes could not help but flick to where the parchments were hidden underneath the essays. 

'Oh yes, ' Xiomara purred, flashing her eyes, 'We have them too,' and smiled a cold smile. 

_What?_

 She froze at the mere idea of it; she would give nothing away. It couldn't possibly mean what it appeared to mean. Xiomara sneered at her attempts at concealment, smug in her cunning superiority. 

'The _parchments_, stupid, the _parchments_. We have them – _all_. From under the potion essays. A pretty good place to conceal them. It took me ages to find them.  Lucius is _very_ generous with his rewards,' and she giggled girlishly. Elrin's head was spinning. ****

_Not possible. The bitch…_

Elrin made a move towards her in fury but Xiomara put her hand up nonchalantly. 'They're not here. They've gone already. Gone to Lucius.' 

'They're no use to you or anyone.'

'Oh, but we don't know that do we?'

'But you are – on the same side….'

'Are we? Are we really?' she said contemptuously. 'My lord will be very happy with me. Why has Severus been so tight with his knowledge eh?' 

'This is crazy. Parchments, notes…none of these…if you have the potion… then why bother with the notes? – they are indecipherable….' Realizing that the witch had her wand aimed at her, she went cold but angry.

'Notes, I want the notes, now Elrin,' she said, legs apart, in battle mode, her raptors eyes sharp, all pretence of civilized veneer gone from her. If she hadn't been worried about bringing the place down, Elrin would have used her vibration on her. But a rocking judder shook them all and it seemed that it was falling already. A loud crack and suddenly the ceiling was coming down and in the split second of her diving under the desk, she saw her former friend succumb under the huge block of masonry without even a sound from her. Some of it was coming down fast, crashing glass and dust everywhere. 

When she was able to, Elrin climbed out coughing from beneath the desk, which she saw had taken the weight of an enormous lump of carved stone, Severus came through the open door and rushed to her. Dragging her out into the clear corridor, he manifested a glass of water from his rooms, and the moment she recovered, encompassed her with his arms, holding her tight and pushed his face into her dusty hair but she felt limp. Feeling his body against hers made her want to succumb, enjoy, treasure, lose herself in him but she could not while she had bad news to tell him. He knew there was something wrong immediately and held her so that he could scan her.

'Where does it hurt?' he demanded, ashamed that he hadn't asked before.

'I'm not hurt. But you will be.'

'What do you mean?' he automatically stiffened.

'She – '

'She?'

'Xiomara – was the one who took the Potion for Lucius. Draco found out about it originally, he told his father, who very naturally told Xiomara.' 

'Xiomara?' he looked astounded. 'With Lucius?'

'Yes. She's also taken…' she found it difficult to get the words out. He stared at her frowning. It seemed like the difference between one era and another. She didn't know how he could take it. She stopped to cough and it was her body's excuse not to say the words. It didn't take him many seconds to work it out himself.

'She has taken the – parchments hasn't she?' he said, no emotion in his voice. That there was none was worse than if he had raged. She couldn't imagine how he would feel, but a sharp memory came to her of his hands, softly stroking the manuscript in his hands before a winter fire.

'Yes,' she whispered, as if it were her fault. 'She said they already had them. She wanted the notes.'

'She hasn't got the notes?' he said; hope returning, his head jerking towards her. 

'No. She was threatening me to show her when the ceiling came down.'

'Good,' and he kissed her on the forehead before moving back towards his office.

'You can't go in there,' she cried, mortified. It's totally unstable.

'I'm going to get the rest of the potions and my notes. You go outside.'

'I want to help you.'

'No, leave,' he commanded '_Now_!'

'Don't you order me about,' she cried, stung. It would take more time arguing, so he yielded against his better judgement.

'Darling – alright, quickly, we'll get them.'

They dashed through the rubble, through the lethal sharpness of smashed jars and around slimy contents and managed to get all the items. It did not take long and she did not look towards where Xiomara had fallen. There was no way that she could have survived that on top of her. She did not want to see an exposed arm or leg or anything crushed. There was no sign of any movement of the structure of the room, although dust and small pieces were still raining down. There was dust everywhere. They rummaged about until they had what he wanted.

'Did you get the students out of Hogsmede?' she asked as they rushed through their task.

'Yes, the idiots,' he snarled. 'Damned Potter and his crew and Draco of course with a crony.'  

Surveying his wrecked office, he shook his head disgustedly at it all. 'You know the great hall has been split wide open. The whole building is in danger.'

'What?! The great hall?' she gasped. 'The whole building?'

'Yes, The Dark Lord has found a new way to destroy us,' he muttered, staring at his workplace and his home in this state. He inhaled and snapped, making for the door, 'Right, I've got everything I need so we must get out now. _Go!_'

'What's this?' she said, stooping in order to pick up a glittering ball on the floor. Xiomara must have…' and she felt a nasty tug at her stomach and a swirling energy pulled her away as the world disappeared and the last thing she heard was Severus shouting her name….

A little reviewing perhaps? Just a few words if you are stuck?

_Truffles mentioned here courtesy of Gwenn._

.


	28. night and day, you are the one

_You may already know Snape in Love by Rickfan.  May I point out three other great stories with completely different styles - Domina Rising by Arachne's Child, Redemption by Gwenn and last but certainly not least, A Dark Herbal by The Stars Hold Nine Serpents. The angles on our friend Severus Snape are all excitingly different and the quality of writing superb. All have great OCs, which I understand is quite rare. _

_Not that I want you to rush off before you've finished mine of course!_

Superwitch

Chapter 27

Surveying his wrecked office, he shook his head disgustedly at it all and snarled quietly. 'You know the great hall has been split wide open: that the whole building is in danger.'

'What?! The great hall?' she gasped. 'The _whole_ building?'

'The Dark Lord has found a new way to destroy us,' he muttered, staring at his workplace and his home in this state. He exhaled loudly and then made for the door, 'Right,' he snapped business-like,  'I've got everything I need so we must get out _now_. _Go!_'

'What's this?' she said, stooping in order to pick up a glittering ball on the floor. Xiomara must have…' and she felt a nasty tug at her stomach and a swirling energy pulled her away as the world disappeared and the last thing she heard was Severus shouting her name….

Chapter 28

**                                                               Night and Day, You are the One**

_Night and Day, you are the one;  
Only you beneath the moon and under the sun.  
Whether near to me or far,  
It's no matter, darling, where you are.  
I think of you, Night and Day._

_Cole Porter_

She ended down on all fours, her legs giving way under the force of the energy that slammed her there and stared stupidly at the black rock beneath her hands.  A small, thin snake with sharp red and green bands on it's back removed itself from the rock and quickly disappeared. A sharp coldness swept around her and sucked the heat within her as she glanced up and saw nothing before her but cold mist. Fortunately she was still wearing his cloak, though as she stood up, it dragged on the ground. Holding it close to her, she could smell his scent on it and inhaled the material for a moment, eyes closed, shivering still. He had been standing by her a few seconds ago. An echo of him calling '_Elrin!_' swam round her heart and she called him silently, hopelessly.

_Severus…_

She had to pull herself together, because wherever she was, she was far away. She could tell by the thin stretching of her connection with him. In fact she wondered whether she was in the same world. This place had a nasty feeling to it; she could taste it. Pulling the cloak further around her she looked around and wondered which way to go, for she had to go somewhere. But which way? How could she possibly get out of this situation when she had absolutely no idea where she was?

Again, his name rose as a cry from deep within her, wanting the protection of him as if he were fortification against all the evil in the world, wanting the power of him so that she could shelter in his shade, wanting the strength of him so that she could stand upright when she wanted to fall. Then last but not least, she wanted his all enveloping body and his hands on her face. It was then that she heard it, faint within her, like a voice in her own head and there was no doubt as to whom it was.

_Where are you?_

_I-I don't know._

_Describe it to me._

_Misty. Cold. _

_Have you been hurt?_

_No. I'm all right._

_You are consistent in refusing to follow my instructions...._

_Please darling…_

_You are worse than many of my students. Why do you not do as I tell you?_

_Because, because._

_What?_

_Because I am me. I am not your Patriarcha, nor am I one of your students._

_I know I am not your Patriarchem but in these matters, you are my student, Dammit._

_I know. I know. I'm sorry._

_Sorry is not going to get you out of there. _

Silence.

_Elrin?_

_Yes._

_Have you got that portkey?_

_No, it's not around. I can't see it anywhere. There's a nasty looking snake around here too, so I'm not searching in the crevices._

_Can you see nothing at all?_

_No. Swirling mist and the ground around me. Just black slimy rocks. No vegetation at all._

_You will have to move to find somewhere._

_I know, but if I go forward in this – I might go down a ravine or something. Ah, there's something there. Oh, no, it isn't._

_Darling, you can't stay there. Just go forward cautiously._

_There's a sort of a path down here._

_Follow it. _

_How do I know which way?_

_You don't, but it's unlikely to lead you into a ravine._

She stumbled onto the thin path and timidly made her way through the heavy mist that danced around her like flying pixies on a hot summer night and it was if she was not alone. After a few yards she spun round, but there was no one there, or no one that she could see. She suddenly came across a small building on the ground just by the path. Heart racing, she went towards it. It looked like Hagrid's, which was very strange. When she went to put her hand on the chunky wooden door, it disappeared, leaving her breathless. She continued on the path. It was then that she heard sounds and she stopped to make them out. For all the world, they sounded like the beating of huge wings and a blast of cold air went by her, freezing her face. Then the clash of battle – cries, cries of combat – thumps or knocks and growls of thunder sounded close by, with more beatings of wings. The cold was as nothing to the sound of this invisible war. It appeared to come from both sides of her.

_My love?_

_Yes._

_What's wrong?_

_I don't know._

_Yes you do._

_I'm being watched. I'm sure of it. But I can't see anyone._

_What else?_

_There's an invisible battle – each side of me._

_Very well, keep to the path._

_What is it?_

_Just keep to the path. Do as I say._

_I am. I am._

_I love you._

_I know. _

For some time she moved on, losing track of time and certainly losing any sense of direction. The path might have led in circles for all she knew. The sounds remained. Almost immediately she nearly fainted as a dark figure loomed up in front of her and she gasped with surprise and delight. 

'_You came!_' she shouted, rushing forward. Her husband stood like a sentinel by the side of the path, wrapped in familiar black robes and cloak and she swooped towards him and flung her arms around him only to fall onto the ground, banging her knee. It took her a while to recover. She was getting even colder and it seemed to seep through her cloak as if it were nothing. There was a shadow in the distance, the mist pulling back to reveal it. It looked like the school.

_Severus?_

_Yes?_

_I think this place has a hallucinatory spell of some sort. I thought that you were here, and you weren't. It wasn't anything at all. Like a mirage. I imagined I saw Hagrid's place earlier. I can see what looks like the school over to one side._

_Ok. Be careful. Don't assume anything to be real at all. Except the path._

She was beginning to panic. 

_Severus…_

_Stay on the path. Just move forward. Take no notice of what is each side of you. Do as I say._

He steadied her and she continued.

_Do not disobey me, do you hear me? Elrin?_

_No, my love._

She trudged on, and eventually there was no way of knowing how long she had been in this place and constantly listened and watched any indication of change in the landscape. Several times she thought she saw things, sometimes attractive, sometimes horrible: just a hint of their essence: the stab of a cruel beak, the glistening of reptilian skin or the subdued glow of powerful jewels and the glitter of a sword in the twilight world. Snarls and throaty shrieks accompanied her making her jump and shiver. So when she saw the arches, she did not believe them at first. These ancient arches striding the path looked as if they were an entrance to a palace of some kind of medieval oriental monarch. There were even potted trees, though the foliage looked sharp and blackened and she avoided touching them and their venomous-red berries sitting heavily in within them. The arches were real enough though. 

_Severus…there are some arches – as if they were part of an old building. It's real, or it feels real._

She was about to describe them to him when the doors flew open and guards came marching out of the dark maw towards her.

Severus..?

She could not hear him. Panicking, she called again. Again there was no answer.

The guards grunted as they surrounded her. A primitive type of what species she was not sure, but there was no way that she was going to argue with them. Theywere frightening enough even without weapons, and the weapons looked very effective. They marched her down dark wide corridors, and her heart recoiled as they passed heavily bolted doors that, although nothing leaked out from behind them, made her fearful of their occupants, or maybe for their occupants. The dripping dampness and the chill together and the few sconces on the walls did not do much to lighten the turgid darkness. The guard's boots sounded harsh on the stone floors as they made their way through these uncomfortable areas. Gradually they moved into warmer and more comfortable passageways until they came to an antechamber that had the sweep and grandness of a palace with its heavy marble columns, spacious polished floors and enormous sweeping staircase leading up beside them. It was the kind of place where everything echoed and she was aware of centuries of quiet dominion. It was the kind of place she felt that she was not worthy to inhabit as it bore down on upon her like pressure in the deepest sea. She was positioned in front of two mighty doors, intricately carved with serpents and heraldry and signs and symbols she did not recognise. They were not like the doors to the Serpents hall at school. For one thing, they were relatively fresh and another that the carvings moved slowly and silently and the jewelled eyes of the creatures observed her. It had a different aura, a different atmosphere though the iconography was similar. There was something uncomfortable, something twisted and skewed about the engraved symbols. She waited, standing, a guard either side of her until a familiar figure came casually out from the doors, backing out and bowing to whoever was within.  It wouldn't have taken a wizard or even a sorcerer to realize who was inside. Malfoy turned around to greet her, the movement of his cloak as deadly and as genteel as ever.

'My dear,' he purred, glad no doubt to have her there without her husband. His eyes glinted maliciously. 'How nice of you to drop in.'

She was under no illusion. 'Go to hell Malfoy,' she said simply.

He was amused. But there was a stronger element of hardness in his urbanity that she realized wasn't new, but he gave the impression that he was more comfortable here about showing it through his careless veneer. She felt as if she were being eyed up for market and the power he oozed made her shiver inside. However, what he was was as nothing compared to what was beyond those doors. He knew it and she knew it. They stood for a time looking at one another, she defiant, he gloating.

'We are wasting my Lord's time,' he said, holding out his arm for her to take. She would rather take his arm as soon as hold a python and glared at him.

'Very well,' he said smugly as he sauntered towards the doors and ushered her in, eyes riveted on her upright bearing.

The second that she was in the room, she wanted to scream.

The second thing she wanted to do was to vibrate. There was nothing overt in it that made her want to do so except the blast of freezing cold that made her soul shiver and the foetid venom that was sitting within it. A core of Dark Magic that sucked the goodness out of everything within range was within, stretching invisible tentacles into the soft innards of the mind and hooking them out and devouring them. Her senses gave her information all at once: a huge dais at the further end of the room rose in a series of steps until at the peak sat a mighty throne, carved out of black wood, ancient and quivering with magic and upon it sat the source of the Dark Magic, a figure which she had seen only once before. Surrounding the central figure the grandness of the room was staggering. The gold would have been dazzling, were it not that it was dark within and so it seethed at her like treason. Decorated gold twisted and staggered over the entire room in a crazy dance of elegance but which merely confused the sanity of the observer. It might have been a ballroom originally, but now it was a throne room and there were now no mirrors and hardly any sconces. The ones that were lit sizzled at her entrance. No sooner than she had observed all this, having taken a few steps into the room, than a mingled sense of terror and hilarity rose up in her like vomit but a hard push from behind sent her crashing down on her knees, then another flat on her face and she was aware that Lucius threw himself on the floor beside her. She intimately examined the black polished floorboards. A tiny spider scuttled away. Even it was afraid. 

'My child,' murmured a voice that scraped upon her nerves. Not thinking it was a good idea to look up, she flicked her eyes over to Lucius, who had his nose firmly to the floor, ignoring everything. She could hear the sound of rustling clothing, soft feet on the floor, as Voldemort, advanced towards them both. Her heart beat loud as he approached and she refused to run, if there had been anywhere to run to. 'Get up Lucius,' he said softly and as he did so, she began to lift herself up as well, and had a boot on her back for her trouble and she fell back again.'

'Lucius, please, we have a guest. Well, well my dear Madam Snape, how nice to meet you again.'

Not being usedto being introduced to someone while lying before someone's feet she said nothing**.**

'Please rise,' crawled the voice, sinful as dominion. The sound of the voice made her think of the twisted serpents in gold around the room. 'We haven't forgotten our manners here.' She was not sure that she wanted to be faced with the monstrosity without being bound. 'Lucius, help the lady up, there's a good fellow.' 

Feeling an iron grip on her arm she was pulled upright. Malfoy's face was a blank.

'This little meeting gives me the opportunity to congratulate you upon your wedding. A little belated I fear, but not inappropriate I trust.'

She said nothing and did not look into his face. A sharp dig in her back from her companion was intended no doubt to remind her of her manners. She said nothing.

'Lucius, Lucius. This guest must be treated with respect.' 

_With caution was the unspoken thought. It was possible she might blast him though if it did not work, Severus would suffer for it and his position put in jeopardy. She had to remain calm for his sake._

'Mind you,' he said as he moved around her, sniffing her making her blood in her veins seemed to ebb away, your wedding could not have been as ostentatious and as evocative as the one we could have given you, could it my Lord Malfoy?'

'No my Lord. I did express this to her.'

'Silence,' flashed the voice.

Eyes flashing, she felt goaded into saying grimly, 'my wedding was the best.'

'Oh! The Lady does speak! I thought she had been sentenced to silence by our good Snape!' and he laughed, a terrible sound which she wished did not echo in the room and that she had not spoken. Lucius grinned fawningly.

_Silenced by the Patriarchium. Yeah, right. Keep a hold on your thoughts. Don't look at him._

'Look at me,' he retorted, cold as ice. She tried not to, but felt impelled to do so and she met the mad red eyes with the fine slits of an insane nocturnal creature.

'Do you love my Lord Snape?'

Least of all did she want to reply to this, but she did, chin up, defiant.

'Yes, I do,' she said, glaring.

'Good, I am glad to hear it. No doubt one would like such a creature as one's bed partner eh Lucius?' Lucius flinched. He didn't have that kind of loyalty from Narcissa. Had she been asked the same question, she would have laughed, loud and long. His lip curled and the Dark Lord grinned. At least she took it to be one. 'Not that I have any need of that sort of thing these days.'

_No, you get your rocks off murdering innocents and dominating weak people like him._

'I heard that,' said the reptilian monarch of the underworld, and she nearly fell to the floor. 

'Innocent? You think Dumbledore is innocent? You think the Ministry is innocent? You need some education my dear…'

'Do you wish to kill me?' he asked suddenly, his long spider fingers curling around his slitted lips.

'Yes.'

'You speak the truth. There are not many who would dare to do so.' He paused. 'And live.'

As the three of them stood there in silence they could hear some commotion outside the doors. Voldemort smiled or rather split his face into a semblance of one and chuckled. There was a loud knock at the door. 

'Well, I wonder who that can be?' he said in mocking tones at her, looking pleased.

'Enter,' he said immediately and Severus marched in, robes flying, shoes soft on the floor. It took seconds for Severus to be stretched out on the floor before them, ignoring her entirely. It gave her a twist to see him in abeyance like that, but it was true, he had little pride when it came to demeaning himself for that which was more important. When it came to that, his humility was endless.

'My lord Snape. It took you a little while to get here.' Severus said nothing. 'How good to see you.'  

'And you my Lord,' he muttered to the floor.

'Get up.'

As he stood, he faced Voldemort. Feeling the link with him, she breathed fractionally better, but closed off all communication between them instinctively.

'See, she is unharmed,' said the Dark Lord, 'Are you not my dear?'

'I am unharmed.'

_For now._

'I did not expect her to be harmed my Lord,' said Severus. 'Not under your roof.'

Voldemort smirked and it was evident that he could be flattered.

'Yet you rushed here.'

'To be by my wife's side.'

'To discipline your errant wife no doubt.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

'Quite a handful, I would imagine.'

Severus smirked at Voldemort  in that knowing masculine way and said nothing. She blushed furiously, maddened. She might not have existed. 

'You are still in honeymoon are you not?'

'Yes my Lord.'

'Then I think you should have some time together, but there is something which has cropped up which needs your attention which may – temporarily – take you away from your marital duties.'

'I am yours, my Lord.'

'Of course you are,' he said fondly. 'So dedicated, my wonderful potions master.'

_Now who was flattering? _ She was slightly shocked.

'You think,' said Voldemort without turning his head, 'that your Lord is not a wonderful potions master?'

'I – I – of course I do.'

'Then be silent like the good wife you should be, and do not interfere with things you do not understand,' he croaked and his voice and his presence cowed her until she felt shame. Underneath the shame she boiled inside and she knew he knew she was, but that she was also afraid. She kept her eyes on Severus for strength and held herself silent. He still did not look or acknowledge her presence. Voldemort beamed in his distorted way, satisfied.

'Yes, my dear, look to your Lord for your guidance,' he sneered and turned back to him.

'Lucius has brought to my notice your new potion, Severus.'

'Yes my Lord,' no trace of anger in either his voice or demeanour.

'You did not see fit to tell me about it?'

'No my Lord, it is still in it's developmental stage. I did not want it to be a failure before it had been tested.'

'Ah the perfectionist. It is a healing potion, I understand.'

'Yes my Lord. Useful for wounds and poisons.'

'That's all very well, said Voldemort, pacing slowly now, his magnificent robes trailing heavily behind him.

'But I want something that is going to bring all this nonsense to a head. I want action.'

'It could help my Lord, if, if you were injured for example…'

'I am aware of that,' he snapped. Severus was silent, waiting. 

'No one is going to injure me. I want you to transmute this potion into poison.'

'I – I am not sure it can be done my Lord.'

'Oh, I think it can. Lucius thinks it can.'

'With respect my Lord, Lucius is not a potions master,' and he glared at his fellow Death Eater.

With a swiftness she had not expected, Voldemort advanced close to Severus, his face frighteningly close, the air crackling around his reptilian form. 

'I will have it,' he hissed, whispering, 'Now my Lord Snape.' 

Lucius looked smug and half smiled at her, resting on his cane. Keeping her thoughts unfocussed, she just sent her fury to him. 

Voldemort turned back towards her. 'Lucius, take our visitor to her quarters, while she waits in comfort and safety for Severus to complete his task. Then you may complete your honeymoon when you have finished. I would not delay it unduly Severus. Your Lady will be cross with you.'

Severus went white and slowly kneeled on the floor. 'Yes my Lord.'

'You will do it here, in…?'

'Dungeon four my Lord,' finished Lucius, holding back a smile.

 Dungeon four. You have everything you need there, including the potion.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

'Good. Lucius?'

'Yes my Lord.'

'Take Madam Snape – Elrin isn't it?'

'Not to you,' she snapped, and regretted it instantly. She aught not to make it worse for them. It came rushing out before she could stop it. His malevolence breathed over her. She began to tremble.

'Take her to her quarters and put guards on the doors. We wouldn't her to be unprotected would we? No one, but no one goes into Madam Snape's quarters. Do you understand my Lord Malfoy?'

Lucius twitched. 'Yes my Lord.'

The two men knelt and so she, to avoid a whack from Lucius, did also, and then they all backed out of the doors.

She had remembered the way they had both looked at one another as guards were arranged either side of her before they led her away, Lucius with a self-satisfied leer at the consternation on both their faces. Severus stared at her helplessly.

_'Don't fight it.'_

_'No, I won't, if you say so.'_

_Don't link with me if He is near._

_All right._

_You will be looked after._

_Don't turn the potion. Remember Fawkes?_

_I remember. _

_Are you going to?_

_You know that you are his hostage?_

_The damage he could do with it is incalculable. My life is not worth it._

_But it is to me._

_We won't have a life if he gets this. Nor will anyone else._

_Just do as I tell you my darling. _

_Oh, be 'the good wife' eh?_

_I love you._

_I – _

_Elrin?_

_I – _

_Elrin?!!_

Her heart felt cold. He could not do this to millions of people. As the guards led her away she watched him as he stood there amidst the emptiness of the outer chamber. There was silence as she blocked him off. 

In her quarters, her food was apparated through the door: good food and wine it was, though she had little appetite. She looked through some of the Dark Arts books that were scattered about in her chamber, but was so sickened by them that she lay around, bored and fretting. The room was beautiful, but she did not see it. Her anxiety for him and what he was doing was overwhelming. There was a part of her that was disappointed in him. 

_How could he do it? Dumbledore might be poisoned. The Aurors. Anyone who got in his way of power. It would be a deadly, deadly poison. And we made it. We made it together, we made it with the generations of dedicated guardians, with his vocation, with his knowledge, with Phoenix culture, with Fawkes, with her abilities to link these aspects together, and hardest of all to accept - with our lovemaking. It was a product of our love and he was turning it. Oh Severus, Oh Severus. _

That night she heard him:

_My love?_

She couldn't bear to hear him, so she blocked him, and there was silence. 

That night she tossed and turned as usual, then fell unaccountably into a deep sleep. __

_Smooth hands over her belly, her thighs. Nipples hardening in the cool air. A hand massaging her breast and she leans up to him, moaning._

_Oh sweetheart. Oh my darling._

_He pinches her breast and she twitches, turning, her throat issuing sounds of pleasure. Hands and knees pull and push her back over onto her back, her arms raised back, locked. Something…_

And rose like out of deep water, spluttering and gasping, staring into blue eyes and blonde hair. The covers were off and he knelt above her, grinning, purely naked, his purple cock a considerable size before him, his breathing hoarse in the gloom and holding her with one hand, sliding his hands over her soft exposed flesh, her nightdress pushed roughly up around her neck. She could feel the serious weight upon her and his knees dug into the mattress beside her. There was no way she could move beneath him. 

'Get out!' she shouted, hoping to arouse the guards. A snort of laughter was the reply. 

'A Silencing Charm is very useful you know. I would have used Quietus you know, but I like a screamer.'

She tried reason.

'Lucius – you know what Voldemort will do to you.' Another snort.

'The Dark Lord, my dear Elrin, you must say The Dark Lord.'

'Stuff the Dark Lord.'

He smacked her across the face, teeth bared. 'You will have respect while under me.'

'Respect? While you are naked kneeling over someone else's wife?'

'But I have all the respect in the world,' he said, his tone of voice changing to his usual sensuous affectation. And by the way, Elrin my dear, I am not IN your room.'

'Do you think I am an idiot? I am not dreaming. I can see you. I can feel you.'

'Yes, but I am not here. I am asleep in my bed.'

'What diabolical wizardry is this?' she snapped, beginning to pant with fear. She could not move one finger to stop him and his lazy hands were sliding over her breasts and her collarbone. They felt physical enough.

'Just a little something I cooked up for my pleasure. My rooms are next to yours. It is only an astral skip and a jump to be here. And I can feel – everything.' His fingers stopped just outside the junction of her legs, rubbing his hands against her fur, slipping further and further towards her ready fruit, watching her panic. Her juices, despite her horror, were active. 'And you have the pleasure of my attentions….'

'Severus will kill you, you realize this?'

'Severus is busy my dear, anxious for you. Poor Severus, working away, day and night to do our Lord's bidding. And I will have had what I have wanted for a long time. He should share. Fellow Slytherin and a brother Death Eater should share. Don't you agree?'

'No, I don't. Get off me,' and she tried with all her strength to buck and kick him off, hoping to get a purchase in his groin. Happily, he enjoyed her futile attempts and rode her anger and despair like he felt a gentleman should. 

'I love a struggler,' he said, unnecessarily, because she could see the delight and madness on his face.

_Severus!_

_No answer.                    _

_Severus….help me please…oh for all the stars…_

Could she get her necklace? She could not reach her wedding present, which was on the top of the dressing table. She cursed her stupidity for not wearing it that night. 

_Severus where are you?_

No answer.

As his fingers brushed the very top of her thighs he felt her wetness.

'Ah, how very interesting. So you are not so much the faithful wife after all….'

'Bastard!' she shouted. He smiled greedily.

 She could even smell his arousal, which she thought strange for astral travelling, but then she didn't think that that it was possible to have any physicality like that anyway. Ramming her legs apart, he readied himself for entrance to her, his hardness waving in front of her like some kind of mad rudder and his testicles, large and droopy, swung gaily underneath. 

'You will enjoy it, I promise you.'

'Fuck off Malfoy!' she yelled, despite knowing that it would send delighted shivers down his spine. 

'A woman like you should be had by a man like me. You cry out for it and I have simply answered your summons.'

As he bent down to extract a kiss before plunging into her, he shot past her and plummeted against the headboard with a crash and fell off the bed onto the floor. 

'What the hell?'

Severus stood arms folded, wand in hand at the end of her bed, trembling with rage and fury and vengeance. He had hit him from behind with a boot in an appropriate place. He was also holding himself back with difficulty.

'Snape.' 

'Malfoy. Scum of the earth. A dirty, nasty dog. You were lucky that I did not have a hot poker in my hand.'

'Wait I can explain…' he said, grabbing his wand from the bedside locker and casting a _Stupefy_ . As his opponent was aware of his likely actions, the _Stupefy_ missed completely and the potions master immediately flashed back at him: '_Fac ut gaudea'_. A red blast shot out of his wand but missed as Malfoy dived for cover. She decided to get out of their way in the bathroom and watched from there. 

He could play with Malfoy all night. Watch him grovel and sweat – naked.

'You will explain your presence to The Dark Lord,' her husband snarled at him.

'And you – will – explain your presence here …?' panted Malfoy.

'As purely defensive.'

'He will be mad at you though.'

'He still needs my potion.'

'_Contriue malum,_' shouted Severus at him, knowing that he would indeed be in trouble at the very least for breaking Voldemort's orders, even in the circumstances. He made a glancing blow on the man's shoulder.

'You will pay for this…'

'Oh, and you haven't just tried to rape my wife..? Just get out of my sight before I kill you.'

'_Imperio_…' blasted back Malfoy as Severus hit him squarely with a _Crucio _meanwhile dodging the well-aimed _Imperius._

Lucius writhed and twitched, gasping and screaming. She prayed no one outside the rooms could hear. It was horrible to watch, even though she hated him. Severus looked both satisfied and disgusted.  He repeated it. Then as his nemesis paused as the punishment which was too good for him began to wear off, Lucius disappeared. He had had the space to go back to his sleeping self.

'He will suffer double when he gets back to his body,' he said contemptuously and then turned his angry face to her.

'Are you – all right? ' Words failed him as he tried to articulate his fear.

'He assaulted me, but he didn't manage to– rape me. No, you came just in time. I am so sorry…so sorry…' and she moved towards his still figure, wanting his arms around her. 

'No,' said, backing off. The back of her neck went cold and stared at him, not believing him.

'I think it would not be wise, that is all, to touch. The Dark Lord may be able to feel the energy. He may or may not have felt our Lord Malfoy,' he spat, 'I am not sure, but I don't want to risk it. I promised, and I want to be able to keep it while he has you prisoner.'

'Oh, I thought you were mad at me for a minute.'

He cocked his eyebrow and looked at her askance. 'Why?'

'Because I blocked you off. I was angry with you.'

'I know you were. I am not mad at you.'

'You're not?'

'No. I understand why. What I am doing is what no one should do. I'm not particularly pleased with myself. Sometimes, often, we need to do what we need to do, and then find out ways to get round it. That has been my experience.'

'How are you doing with the potion?'

'I believe that it would be in our joint interests if we did not talk about it now.'

'I want to hold you; I want to feel you.'

'And I want you against me. But I must not. Go to sleep now.'

'Sleep? Are you joking? With the threat of a psychotic stalker kneeling over me with his dick at the ready?'

'I will be here.'

'Will you?'

All the terror of the past minutes in contrast to her days of boredom and worry, were beginning to tell on her, and she collapsed back into the pillows.

'I am so, so glad you came. Did you hear me?'

'Of course I heard you. I couldn't answer because I had to alter my state into an astral form.'

'Oh, and before?'

'As soon as I heard you mentioned the arches, I knew where you were. The connection was broken as I rushed to come to you.'

'Come nearer to me now,' she pleaded.

'Do not touch me, not even for a fraction. He will know.'

'All right. I promise I won't.'

'Sing me a song or something,' she murmured, eyes fluttering.

'I can't sing,' he said, a smile in his voice. As he had spoken, she noticed that his voice came from above her and she opened her eyes to jerk in surprise to see him hovering a couple of feet above her, lying face down with his arms folded, watching her, just like he did at Dumbledore's before the wedding.

'Can you stay there like that?'

'Yes.' 

'Are you comfortable?'

'Yes.'

Her eyelids were pulling themselves down. She wanted to gaze at him as he hovered there like a black angel, his silky curtain of hair flopping down, his eyes shadowed by the dim light, but she was fighting a losing battle.

'I'm so sorry,' she whispered up at him, 'I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for cutting you off.'

'I am not in the business of forgiving.'

'You won't forgive me?' she breathed, distraught, holding herself like a rock. 

'There is nothing to forgive,' he whispered back, his voice hoarse.

Fading into sleep, she drifted off with the words, 'I'm so sorry…so s….'

_Contriue malum _

_Destroy evil_


	29. putting on the Ritz

My thanks to for their support and their stories  - The Stars Hold Nine Serpents (A Dark Herbal) and Arachne's Child (Domina Rising) since I believe they have inspired me to do this chapter with their writing. (But don't blame them for it!).  And of course all my wonderful reviewers who help to keep me at the sweating computer. Thank you for your encouragement.

**General Warning**: From hereon in, there is a veering away from Canon, although we don't know what will be at the end of Book V11, we can guess.

Chapter 28

Her eyelids were pulling themselves down. She wanted to gaze at him as he hovered there like a black angel as his silky curtain of hair flopped down with eyes shadowed by the dim light, but she was fighting a losing battle.

'I'm so sorry,' she whispered up at him, 'I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for cutting you off.'

'I am not in the business of forgiving.'

'You won't forgive me?' she breathed, distraught, holding herself like a rock. 

'There is nothing to forgive,' he whispered back, his voice hoarse.

Chapter 29

  
If you're blue and you don't know where to go to   
why don't you go where fashion sits, 

Puttin' on the Ritz.  
Different types who wear a day  
coat pants with stripes and cutaway  
coat perfect fits  
Puttin' on the Ritz.  
Dressed up like a million-dollar trooper  
Tryin' hard to look like Gary Cooper (super duper)  
Come let's mix where Rockefellers  
walk with sticks or um-ber-ellas  
in their mitts.

Have you seen the well-to-do

Up and down Park Avenue

On that famous thoroughfare

With their noses in the air

High hats, and arrow collars

White spats, and lots of dollars

Spending every dime

For a wonderful time.  
If you're blue and you don't know where to go to   
why don't you go where fashion sits,    
Puttin' on the Ritz.   
Puttin' on the Ritz.   
Puttin' on the Ritz.

(Irving Berlin)

                                                                                   **Putting on the Ritz **

And so it was for days. Every night he hovered above her so that she could sleep in safety despite the fact that he looked worn and ragged round the edges with bruises under the eyes. She so longed to hold him but swiftly realized that it was not helping him, so she held herself tightly in check. Having him there was both a blessing and a curse. What he was doing with the potion was there daily in his eyes, and she did not know whether to fight him or support him. Eventually, her own feelings for him took precedence and she tried to remember that he had so much more experience in dealing with the machinations of this potential Dark Emperor. Racking her brains as she sat around for days, which stretched into weeks for some solution, she came to no conclusion at all. If she used her vibration, she did not know if Voldemort had the power to crush her, and Severus too. It was not something that she could experiment with.  

_Perhaps she could try a little – just enough to give him and his cronies a headache._ Sweat broke out in her at the thought. Even the slightest hint of her freedom would reveal Severus to be a fraud. One thing was clear, they had to stop him using the potion somehow, even if they did not break his regime entirely. It would send him back to square one and make him madder than a snake and she smiled to herself at the thought. Another worry was this new ability to fiddle with the natural earth laws. She couldn't even imagine how they could have done that and worried about the condition of the castle. 

_Would it be in ruins? If it was, there was no home for her to go back to. No roots. No real family where integrity and respect and love of being alive reigned._

But what was worse than her own personal happiness was the idea that one of the main blocks to Voldemort's reign had been damaged or destroyed and with it, the hope of the future for everyone except the corrupt and the insatiable. Beyond the school was the Ministry, though she didn't hold out an amazing amount of hope of success there. Though the Aurors were able, she understood, their track record had been merely keeping him at bay. She wondered why Dumbledore just did not kill him. He had the power. Would that make it wrong if they annihilated him? They pinned an awful lot of hope on Harry, particularly Dumbledore, and although she knew that the young man was capable, they could not wait passively for him to do the heroic deed while Voldemort trampled over people's lives. That was for storybooks. A frisson of fear shot through her as she realized what she had thought and thrust it away. That way lay madness.

Her thoughts skittered round and round with questions and no answers until the next meal, the next darkening to night and the day after that, though the difference between sundown and sunup was not distinguishable except by the meals and her lover's nightly appearance. She could at least talk to him, though she did not bother him during the day since he would be busy and they said little to each other at night, just absorbing the strength and tenderness of each other's presence. Until the day when he announced that he had finished. 

_Are  you going to delay it further?_

_I could, except that He is getting very impatient. He expects things done overnight. Time is running out. Lucius is pushing him._

_Ah._

_I go to Him tomorrow._

Silence.

_I may see you soon…_

Silence. 

_He will want to celebrate. You can bet on it._

_Celebrate_. The idea made her feel ill.

Elrin?

Silence.

_Yes Severus?_

_Do you want to see me?_

_How could I not want to see you?_

_Because of…my actions._

_I know that your heart wishes otherwise. You are being forced into it._

_That is logic. What I am doing is against everything I have lived for, at least these past twelve years._

_I know. Come to me, as soon as you can._

_I know that I asked you into my life, but I will never cease to wonder at how that happened._

_And I never cease to be glad of it._

_Even with me doing what I am doing now? _

_Though I hate it, yes, I do._

_Even being trapped here as the wife of a Death Eater? _

_I am the wife of Severus Snape. No one else._

_Even as a prisoner?_

_Even as a prisoner._

Silence_._

_Severus?_

_Yes._

_Hurry._

_I will._

It was seven o'clock one evening some days later when he arrived. He could be heard ordering the guards to open the doors and she heard the rattle in the keyhole. It was louder than a dungeon lock. Blowing in as if he had come from a long distance he halted before her as she stood waiting for him, breathing steadily. The auric pull was shuddering strongly at his proximity. To experience him after an absence was like discovering a new continent. She wanted to explore all his fiords, his mountaintops and his jungles, to be swept along his rivers and be lost in him and never found again.  As his monumental presence filled the room, he was a surprise and a newness to her senses as if she were seeing him for the first time. He required a response, but all she could do was stare in awe at this hurricane of desire and doubt; she was a sightseer, a pinprick of humanity besides a roaring Niagara, a gentle bird atop an alligator's jaws, a star within a galaxy. And this force of nature, this soldier of battle, blood-pain in his eyes, was standing in need before her. He had come to her for succour, for strength, for wisdom because he had none left, only a marching forward with heavy steps towards a dubious future. It looked like he thought she might shiver into hallucination and be plummeted back into his inner prison if he reached out to her. Feeling his nervousness, she tentatively put a hand to his face and then crept it around to the smooth intimacy at the back of his neck, their eyes meeting. She was going to pull him to her, but instead he jerked out of his dream, took her hand and bent low to kiss it. 

'I have no idea why I did not do this the very first minute I ever saw you.'

'You were a little preoccupied if I remember, with thinking that I was an infiltrator.'

'But you knew that we – would be like this didn't you?'

'Because Fawkes told me, within minutes of meeting him.'

'Did he, the rascal? But you knew anyway, didn't you?'

'Yes.'

'I could see in on your face, and I admit I was annoyed at the time, but not blind.'

'Annoyed it putting it mildly,' she smiled. 'You were like something familiar I had never known before.'

'You are beginning to sound like Fawkes.'

'Good.'

'Bad.' 

Taking her slowly by the shoulders, he pulled her to him and she could feel the command of his restraint and then the soft gift of his kiss from his lush lips as if he would give her the world had he held it in his grasp and would fight his way through a thousand Dementors to protect her from the creeping evil that surrounded them. As his aroma surrounded her, she was lost to him altogether, their arms crushing one another, measuring how much they cared for one another in that pressure. After absorbing each other's essences for some endless minutes and verifying their physicality to one another, he sighed and said, 'There is a celebration tonight.'

'No! Not tonight…we….'

'I know. We have to get ready now. There is no time.'

'That's so quick. He always has us on the hop.'

'He is as thrilled as a boy with a new wand,' he snarled bitterly. 'He has been waiting to do this for some time. All the preparations are completed.'

'Do we have to go?' 

He tilted his head at her in pity.

'All right,' she said, crushed. 

_At least he would be with her. _

He was standing there and she was suddenly aware that he was uncomfortable. 

'What is it?'

'It is a full celebration. A ceremony.'

'Yes.' she stated cautiously.

'A Death Eaters celebration.'

The intake of her breath and the look in her eyes made him look away. The implications of this were not slow in her brain.

'You…will…be in full…attire?'

'Yes,' he said, sitting on the bed, holding her hand as if he did not want to let it go.

'That means…'

'Yes it does.'

'Oh.' She looked distraught. As well she might. He clutched her hand and pulled her. 

'Look at me. You must not touch it remember. At no time. And…do not…'

'What?' He was finding it difficult to come out with it.

'Do not…cross me. I ask of you. It's extremely dangerous. You've seen what it does. I can hold onto myself only so far and I have never been around you with it on, except in the hospital wing. I was weakened with Crucio then, but it's still a delicate balance. I am aware that it is difficult for you to play the part of …my partner in this. I will not be able to link with you either.'

'I - will do everything you say.'

'Thank you,' he said and kissed her again, wanting to linger, but tearing himself away. 'It's late. We have to get ready, now.'

'Oh. I don't have anything to wear for something special. What am I going to do?'

'I have already arranged it. We will have a bath first and then I will show you. We have only a short time…we must hurry.'

After they had dried themselves from the quick bath, he manifested their clothes and she watched them shimmer through the empty air from wherever they had been. Her gown was of a dark crimson texture - a congealed blood colour, gleaming dully with black rubies and had an enormously wide ballroom style with a tiny bodice, which did not appear to leave much room for her breasts. It was a dress out of another century, so full that the laced petticoats underneath threatened to suffocate her in them as she tried it on. After she had adjusting her breasts so that they would not actually fall out, he stepped closer to run a finger over her collarbone and her neck and she was aware of burning to press herself to him. Tracing his finger down the outside of her right breast where the skin was delicate, it was as if she was something from one of his precious jars and he was scrutinizing her for use in one of his potions. She watched his mouth curl as if he wanted to press it to her skin, but instead took out of his pocket a necklace of jet stones that matched his hair and his eyes and carefully placed it round her and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck as she lifted her hair for him to clasp it tight.

'Are you putting your hair up?'

'Yes.'

He nodded and paused as he watched her indulgently. He himself had not yet dressed and was still in his underwear and white shirt. Her hands wanted to wander in amongst that material into the warmth within but knew that she could not. He looked so desirable standing there, so inviting and his male scent was intoxicating.

'There is something else which the occasion demands and which will assist me while I am – changed.' Before she had time to ask, he had presented her with a delicate tiara, nestling like a small bird in his hands and which looked as if it had seen several medieval wars. Like the circlet for her veil, it was thin and unassuming as well as slightly bent but beautiful in its' simplicity She took it gently, afraid to break it.

'It's perfectly strong.'

'Another one of your mother's?' she asked with a certain twist of anxiety. 

'No' he half smiled. 'My grandmother's. My mother refused to wear it. I believe she said that it was archaic.'

'It is, but it is adorable.'

'Is wearing a tiara not a little over the top?'

'Not tonight,' he sneered. 'It has a protection in it, but it has never been tested in these circumstances, so do not rely on it. Like your ring, it links you with generations of strong Snape women, and will afford you help when under stress.'

A drop of sweat trickled down his forehead and she saw it fall down the side of his face. She moved to wipe it, but he gripped her arm hard.

'No.'

She recovered her arm. 

'I have your ring as well.'

'That,' he said, 'may be under pressure and – may – cause problems. If in doubt cling to the matriarchal.'

'You're making me very nervous.'

'I am arming you, making you ready.'

Another trickle fell down and he wiped it away absently.

'Are you….?'

'Yes. I am.'

'Kiss me before you - change.'

'No. It would be foolish and dangerous at this point of the transformation.'

When one is suddenly deprived of something so easily available it becomes the most precious thing in the world and the most desirable. Seeing her face, he pulled abruptly away from her. 'Finish your hair,' he snapped, heading to put on his own attire. 

When she turned around complete in her dress with long gloves and shoes, she saw him in his usual style of frockcoat and trousers, though this one appeared to be made of a opulent material but what was unusual was the wide heavy silk sash of resplendent green wound around his waist. They both gaped at one another and then she noticed that his face was different and changing even as she gazed on it. It had a predatory aspect, the look of the big cat as it stalks the bush, frozen, focussed in its' desire for the prey.  She found it difficult to breath. Almost automatically, she clutched her betrothal ring. He nodded silently.

'Are you still there?' she whispered.

'Yes, I am still here. I will always be here,' he said hoarsely, his voice altering pitch and there was a malicious impatience in his voice now. It was then that she could see the strange glitter around his eyes in the light. Reaching down for his cloak, he shifted it on his shoulders and the magnificence of it took her breath away. Deepest black, it fell about him like a shadow: a black to drown you in, a black to take you to the end of the Universe in, a black to die in. It made her think of the Dementors and their Death Kiss. She wondered what it would be like with him and shook herself out of it, pressing her ring so that it hurt. The mask was almost complete on him. His eyes blazed out from behind it, searing all before him – as if they could shrivel her hopes, her dreams, her very soul. They also had an effect on her body, which shamed her.

'You are looking like the Queen you are,' he said, his silky growl slithering round her heart and then in the silence that followed, offered his arm to her. She placed her gloved hand on it carefully and they made their way to the festivities together.

On the way down the massive staircase where what seemed a life time ago, they had parted below in the antechamber, he to his task, she to her isolation, they met Malfoy with his wife and she gripped Severus' arm. He did not alter his step. Behind Lucius' mask and its' dangerous glitter his eyes had the look of the deranged, but his deportment and voice was still that of the blasé fop. It did not fool her for the auric tension between them turned her stomach; what Malfoy was emitting was shaking her foundations. Did the Death Eater attire alter them or empower them with something added or did it enhance what was there already? She would have to ask later. Not that it mattered which way it was. The air fairly crackled. Severus did not appear to notice that this fellow Death Eater had recently tried to rape her nor that there was anything wrong. However she could feel the safety of Severus' arm and she leaned closer into his orbit. 

'Well, well,' drawled the school governor, lifting himself onto the same level with them on the staircase, 'How are you Severus?'

'Fine Lucius,' replied Severus dispassionately, not appearing to be particularly interested in anything within range.

'Elrin,' enunciated Lucius in his customary manner, ' I do not believe you have met my wife Narcissa?' 

_Don't call me Elrin you low life._

Narcissa swam more into her view, having been eclipsed by Lucius. Woman to woman she was surprised somehow. As tall as Lucius, as blonde as he was, but of a softer, more honey colour. She had a sophisticated look with a red gashed mouth and high cheekbones and although she had heard that she was disdainful, found it not to be true. Admittedly she had a high nose and a proud air, but did not appear to have a superior attitude. Elrin's careful eyes noticed a nasty bruise half hidden by the top of her dress and then another just visible above her long gloves which she kept pulling at discreetly. She had that look that Elrin admired for she had that sleekness that Vogue models had in the 1940's. No ball gown for her: of thin skeleton and virtually no fat, she oozed elegance in her long silk dress, which clung to her as if she had been born to model it. Her hair was swept into perfect neatness into the nape of her neck and diamonds glittered around her throat. Her model eyebrows raised as she held out a thin limp arm. Elrin hated limp handshakes from man or women at the best of times but she could find little in Narcissa to hate. She was stunningly beautiful and she had the misfortune to be Malfoy's wife. She wouldn't have been in her Manolo Blahnik's for anything.  Both women sized each other up and then relaxed. Elrin wanted to extend sympathy, but simply greeted her with a friendly eye. Her husband was watching them both closely, a twitch in one of his eyes.  

'How do you do.' There was no superiority in her voice, simply the flow of social grace. Elrin sensed that there was something broken in this splendid vision of a woman and hated Malfoy even more. She wondered if she was a cut above him in station so that like a frustrated inferior, he constantly peddled to be better than she. 

After that, they entered another huge set of doors, this time gold panelled and moulded and patterned with more signs and symbols. As they stood waiting in line to enter the room, she could see a stiff figure announcing the guests as they became framed in the doors. Just as Malfoy and his wife were just about to step forward she suddenly remarked casually, 'Oh, by the way Lucius, before I forget, Xiomara was crushed to death. I thought you'd like to know.' And she watched in delight as he almost missed his footstep. 

'Lord and Lady Malfoy,' cried the figure.

'Lord and Lady Snape.'

_And since when had she become a Lady? She must have missed it in her sleep. _

Faced with the sight before her, she nearly stumbled into the dazed Malfoy. What she thought had been a throne room had been a cupboard. This hall could probably have fitted the Forbidden Forest within its borders. Perhaps that was a slight exaggeration on her part, but it was as immense as a cathedral, the high ceiling swallowing the thick marble columns that stretched up forever into the dimness above. Below on the ground lay a dais with wide steps leading up to a dramatically lit throne, huge and grandiose that squatted like some kind of brooding presence in this enormous chamber. As if it had been there for thousands of years, this centre of organic malevolence was waiting patiently for its' time. Somewhat fearful of this malignancy within it, the hall's architecture, solid and plain in its' construction, stood dignified and silent as if by pretending that it did not exist, it did not exist.  

Gathered on the endless floor that shone with polish were celebrators festively dressed. Men and women wandered around, greeting each other in a subdued and tense manner. The women's ball gowns, mostly much larger than her own, took up most of the room and many she thought were wildly overdressed, as if they were compensating against the largeness of the hall, hair piled high with assortments of flowers and fruit and bat's wings and colours to make the eyes water. Silks and satins puffed up and tweaked, taffeta pinched and tucked, squeezed and rousched with oceans of chiffon and tulle topped often with the fur of strange creatures. Hands waved beribboned fans signalled their naked jewels. 

'Dear Merlin,' she inhaled.        

He gave her a warning glance and they strolled within the room. She was surprised at the amount of people there. She thought Voldemort's followers were meagre. This gave the lie to it, though there were still relatively few Death Eaters around judging by their stark black cloaks: the badge of the purist and the powerful. As they walked into the company, people around them moved aside quickly, melting at their approach. Lucius and Severus nodded disdainfully at one or two people here and there and did what most people termed mingling. It felt more like a duty and the dry conversations were charged with competitive tension. It could hardly be called socializing. She clung to him still and was fearful of him leaving her amongst these shadows of people with their glinting, shifting eyes. They reminded her of some of the people that she knew from long ago: greedy and cowardly people, with only their eyes on the main chance. Since she had been at the school, she now realized that she had got used to clear eyes with warmth in them; open eyes that had the potentiality of giving and receiving, not grasping and keeping. Her hand hurt from clutching at him and she told herself to relax as much as she could. He meanwhile, avoided looking at her and did not even seem to realize that she existed, except for the arm out for her and she was so glad of it. Then she would not have to look into his eyes. He was talking to several men, and apart from introducing her to them as if she were something that happened to be attached to him, ignored her so she did not have to make conversation. As long as he kept her close, she felt she could face anything. 

_His arm must ache.                           _

This was clearly a man's world: a nasty mix of politics and crime and the women were generally, with a few exceptions, decorative and although not necessarily subdued, deferred to their partners, kept a modest and apolitical profile and did not argue or contradict what their men said. There were exceptions and they were women on their own, powerful witches in their own right and often flashy with it. It hurt that some women were cowed outright and she noticed one young woman, delicate in stature shivering next to her rather voluble man. She looked lost and as their eyes met for a flash, understanding passed between them. When she saw the black cloak of her husbands', she nearly passed out. She did not look at Elrin in the eyes again. Then they moved on as their respective partners drifted away. There was also the haughty baby-faced young black woman with her golden brown skin and tossed curls who did not look more than sixteen. She didn't know whether to feel more sorry for someone who clearly thought she was being cool, or for the other woman.

'Would you like a drink my dear?' purred Severus,  suddenly making her jump while she absently slid her hand over the necklace. His mask oozed menace and she could not look straight into his eyes or she would have fallen into a ravine so deep she would not have emerged alive, so she kept her eyes on the buttons of his frockcoat. 

'Oh, yes. I'd like a sherry.'

'I think - a claret,' he said indifferently. The men and women around them were watching her like greedy ferrets. She opened her mouth to argue and then stopped, and breathed deeply before answering. 'Yes, thank you my Lord.'

'Good,' he smirked approvingly as his eyes appraised the mounds of her exposed breasts that nested below the black jewellery. His sneer crawled round her stomach, round her legs and into her groin.

_She aught not to be turned on with him like this._

He apparated a glass for them both and they drank and talked until there was a sudden change in the atmosphere and she knew what was coming. That same sinking, stomach clenching, mind clawing atmosphere snaked its' way through her. Movement at one end of the vast room had them turning to see the gathering parting to allow a single figure to slowly move through. Severus immediately disapparated the glasses and took her hand tightly as everyone fell before this figure like a tidal wave along a shore. There was the sound of whispering rustles as the women kneeled right down on the floor, their skirts shimmering around them like gigantic poisonous flowers, their heads bowed and the men went down on one knee, their heads low. There was, despite the subjugation, or perhaps because of it, a definite uplift in the air, a manic gaiety and it came not from the assembled congregation, but from the new presence in the room. She caught only a glimpse of the figure as she scrambled to the floor, yanked down by her husband, perhaps because he did not trust her to do it herself but the air was so charged that she would not have done otherwise. There was an imperative in the air. What she had seen of the monstrous head and the weirdly white hands would not have been particularly notable, but the vestments and the mantle that enveloped him and which fell to the floor to trail a very long way behind him was spectacular: a deep imperial purple trimmed with white ermine. His slippered feet sounded quiet on the floor as he moved along, surveying his devotees, and then she saw no more as she glued her eyes to the floor. Severus still held her hand. 

Whether he held it because he feared that she would not do the right thing or whether to comfort her there was no way for her to know.

She heard the feet pause somewhere in front of them but did not move or make a sound as a venomous wave passed over her which held just a hint of respect in it and was surprised. That approval flooded her mind like poison because something in her involuntarily lifted to it and then she cursed herself inwardly for her weakness. She heard a quiet chuckle that had the sound of ripping steel within it and she closed her eyes and prayed to all the stars in the firmament.

'Arise,' he murmured to Severus and she felt him get up off his knees and loose her hand and she made a movement that was instinctive and flicked her eyes upward. 

_Was she supposed to rise too?                             _

And saw Voldemort freeze. 

'Rebuke your responsibilites my Lord Snape,' he hissed. Severus wheeled his head round at her, his hair snapping round his face of cold ferocity.

'Lady - mind your place,' he commanded with a deadliness that plunged hard into her heart and vibrated there. She could not help but blush with fury as well as embarrassment as she held her head back down, suddenly aware of her exposed neck. 

_Let him feel my anger._

'Your anger is appropriate, Lady Snape, but not your manners,' said the contemptuous serpentine voice. There was a momentary silence as she felt they were both scrutinizing her, then he spoke to her husband in a low tone and she could not hear what was being said and then Severus knelt down again without taking her hand. Voldemort moved on slowly, presumably relishing, counting and measuring the bowed heads. It was only after he had passed, that she realized she had also been holding her breath.  And she was not the only one because there were soft exhalations around her, except from Severus or Malfoy kneeling on her other side. 

After what seemed like eternity and her knees were aching, Voldemort spoke in a hiss, 'Rise my beautiful children.' There was a bustling to get themselves up and when they did so, looked up to where he stood high in front of the huge throne, the light licking round his repellent form and his magnificent robes, the train of his mantle lying in front of him down the steps like a blazing purple carpet. He slowly scrutinized the assembly; his satisfied slit of a mouth stretched wide and the silence grew, as did her nausea. The room fairly thrummed with Dark Magic. It was loud in her ears, it beat against her conscience, it summoned up the savage blood that seethed through her veins.

'Today,' he said slowly, savouring each word, 'is an important day. On this day, many things coalesce in the advancement of Our Reign. This is a great day of celebration. We have worked hard and each of Our sacrifices along the way now comes to its' fruitful triumph. The time will soon to be when We will subjugate our enemies and have Our Just Retribution. Then we can cleanse the world of its' foolishness.' There was a soft sigh of happiness in the room as he spoke while raising his arms high in the air: 'We are – Exalted.'

Had not she felt the presence of her lover beside her even though she did not dare look at him and she did not have physical contact, this might have sent her into unreality land. Of all the terrors in the world, she was standing in amongst it, almost alone. As she watched the curl of smoke from one of the scones shudder behind the throne and the light die, she hoped it was an omen. 

'Come my faithful servants,' crawled the voice his arms inviting. A dreadful desire to head to the nearest exit made her actually calculate in her mind where it was. 

'You know who you are.'

As Severus moved from her side, she froze as she realized that he was no longer going to stay with her. She would be adrift in a choppy sea without him. 

_How could she be strong enough in this insanity by herself? This wasn't turning out to be what she thought it would be._

Slowly, black-cloaked figures made their way up the steps and one by one prostrated themselves on the steps before their Lord while he muttered over them and put his hand on their shoulders as they rose to stand around him. Their replies could not be heard properly because it was supposed to be an intimate procedure but she assumed it was some sort of reaffirmation of their oaths of loyalty. 

_How could he do it?_

Then she shut her mind off from thinking about it. Voldemort might be able to hear, although he seemed preoccupied in his ecstasy, fingering his Death Eaters, spindly white fingers on black. As they faced the company lined up with their Lord in the middle, she shivered at the Severus' lethal demeanour. He stared over the crowd and certainly did not look in her direction, which she was glad of, but ached for him. 

_Was this the man who bent his head to her and loved her? Had she imagined him? _

_Or was he…?_

This hardly formed thought plummeting her over a cliff of doubt about him and it opened a terror so vast, she shut it off completely. Her wedding ring was pressing on her, hot and burning and she wanted to tear it off.

'Part of this night,' began Voldemort again, 'belongs to a special person, and you are lucky to be a witness to this,' and he indicated with his head above the heads of the crowds to someone at the back of the audience. People parted to reveal a young man chained in between two guards, dressed minimally in a white shirt open at the neck and black trousers, almost Muggle dressed. He reminded her of Draco, though he was dark, not blonde. He had a mixed look of excitement and determination on his soft carved features, not fear. __

Taken to below the steps they unchained him and flung him down and he remained motionless.

'And who are you?' asked Voldemort in a hard voice but with a glitter in his red eyes.

'One who craves to be Your Servant, My Lord,' he spoke to the floor.

'Do you now?'

'Yes My Lord.'

'And what makes you think you are worthy?'

'Nothing my Lord. I am unworthy.'

Voldemort smelled the air and what he smelled pleased him.

'Have you completed your tests?'

'Yes my Lord, except - the last one.' The voice was deliberately steady which indicated some fear to her.

'And are you ready for it?'

When he replied they could hardly hear him, it was spoken so softly.

'Yes my Lord.'

'Very well. Arise.'

And to her surprise and shock as he stood, Voldemort handed him, handle forward, a decorated weapon whose blade glinted in the light. She understood from her studies that in the magical world, a dagger was an archaic weapon and since the advent of the wand, was rarely seen, let alone used.

'Then continue. Turn to the audience and show them.'

With incantations and mutterings, he wielded the dagger in front and with only a short hesitation, plunged it into his body and fell on his knees before them. A muffled breath came from the crowd rather than a cry. It was too soft to call it a cry. She was fairly close and she could see the blood pouring out from him onto the floor. The dagger had been forced in up to the hilt. Slowly, slowly Voldemort descended the steps and stood by the figure now lying awkwardly before him.

'Do you, before you die, adhere to me?'

Gasping shallowly, the young man could hardly get it out, but he did. 'Yes. You are - My Lord.'

Then he sank, white and shaking and fell unconscious.

Looking casually round at the audience the Dark Lord smiled. 'Now isn't this a delight to behold? In this day and age, we have perfection here. I will have nothing said about the youth of our age. Unless they are deliberately foolish,' and then he bent down and with loving care thrust his wide fingers out and blue bolts came thrusting out and slammed into the body of the youngster which juddered with the force. While they all waited, slowly the young man sat up and blinked, blood still covering him.

'My Lord?'

'Welcome my friend. Your oath of allegiance is accepted. Receive your honour.'

Indicating to one of the Death Eaters who apparated clothes, Voldemort presented him with his cloak. The blood circulated in his face now and with a blissful and calm demeanour, knelt while Voldemort arranged it round him, taking care to adjust it carefully. A mother could not have been more tender. The twist of it all made her breathing shallow and her stomach want to revolt again. She felt Narcissa glance at her sideways but did not and most certainly could not say anything. While they were all standing there, and making room for the new member, she could see the mask beginning to appear on his face, and to be seen on one so young, was terrible to behold.

'My children, I present to you my Lord Woolacott.'

And everyone clapped. It was difficult to detect, but she thought she saw Severus' eyes move in her direction. 

_Checking no doubt._

'And now –'

Groaning inside, she fiddled with her gloves.  

_How long would this go on for?_

'A presentation of Our weapons of defence and liberation,' and with a nod, a small bespectacled man immediately appeared in their midst from out of the assembly. 'Mr. Urano,' would you present yourself to my guests?' Mr. Urano was shivering in his boots, but he nodded on his thin neck and bowed. 

'I am a geologist and I have –' he gulped looking towards someone for support, 'found a way to alter the dimensions of ….'

'Just give us the gist Mr – Urano,' sneered the reptile.

'I am responsible for breaking the ground underneath a certain school of our acquaintance, so that it is in danger of collapsing…' he laughed nervously. 'It was never bound by the protection that was in force on the surface.'

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Narcissa twitch. The Malfoys had another child, a daughter as well as Draco. 

'And what damage has there been so far?'

'A chasm of unknown depth in the Great Hall, several major corridors and offices destroyed, and one whole turret down. This is just the beginning of course. The building is in danger and has been evacuated.'

Voldemort bowed his head in appreciation. 'You will receive your reward Mr. Urano. That is number one. Number two. Lady Snape.'

She nearly sank to the floor, her legs shaking and her throat tightened. Her eyes went to Severus and he had her eyes full on her. She could feel his intensity from there; she found she couldn't move.

Voldemort lazily looked over at him and said slowly, 'my Lord Snape, send her to me. She seems to have lost the use of her legs.' 

'My lady, go to My Lord – now,' he said in his most hostile tone. Breathing fast now, she hesitated. The silence in the hall screamed. She struggled and moved forwards uncomfortably. Voldemort smirked. Walking to the bottom of the stairs she halted, head up as if she were going to her death. 

_What was she supposed to do?_

'Make her turn to my guests,' murmured the voice.

'Turn,' her lover snapped. 

She turned to see the upturned faces and they were a mass of people, not individuals. She could smell and feel the personality of the congregation. It was afraid and greedy and those two things motivated them more than anything else, and she realized sharply that she was seeing them from more or less Voldemort's point of view and shuddered. They were more like sheep than wolves. The wolves were right behind her.

'This woman, the Lady Snape, has a special ability to disarm and possibly kill through Sorcery.

The crowd in front of her inhaled sharply. She is not a friend to us. She hates us. Amazing isn't it? I will never understand these people.  But fortunately Lord Snape may enforce his law upon her at any time and order her to do that which she most hates. My Lord Snape?'

There was hardly a hesitation. There had obviously been a prearrangement. So that was what he had spoken to him about.

'My dear,' said the potions master, his voice penetrating the distance between them and vibrating through the air into her nerves and her blood, 'turn around and make obeisance to The Dark Lord.'

_Make obeisance? What the hell was that?_

It made her quiver almost uncontrollably. Obedience was never one of her strong points.            

_Whatever it was, she couldn't do it. Not even for him._

'I am waiting my lady. I am not in the habit of doing so.'

She fought the urge to stay where she was, but she knew that in the end she would have to turn and with difficulty she faced Voldemort, who was now sitting on his throne, engulfed in its magnificent and frightening maw, which was now fairly cracking and snapping loudly with scarlet bolts of Dark Magic. Voldemort was still.  She was still shaking and as she clutched her betrothal ring hard, she could feel the slime of blood from it on her fingers. The thought slipped through her mind that at least it could not be seen on her dress. The other ring was making her hand throb with pain, but in some ways it helped her. It gave her something else to focus on besides what was happening. The full power of this despot radiated malevolence the closer one got and so facing him with his power turned fully on, she buckled inside. She could be brave down there. Up where she was, was different. She was also petrified that she might start vibrating, or refuse him altogether and give everything away. Turning to face Severus, she pleaded with him, knowing before she spoke that it was useless.

'My Lord, release me from this I beg you.'        

There was no answer to this, his face unresponsive and with his eyes deep within the mask watching. After a moment he continued to snarl with all the warmth of black ice, 'Approach and prostrate yourself to the Dark Lord.' It both steadied and angered her.

Juddering, she moved forward and sank, praying to something, to anything. She hoped she would not lose her soul for this. And she began to lie on the steps avoiding the purple train as if it were unclean and adjusted her dress so that the audience would not have a complete view of her underwear. It was difficult and she cursed the dress, her petticoats a riot of cotton material that plumped up her dress so that it stuck up behind her. In the end she told herself the hell with it; she had done it before in the throne room after all. 

_Although that was voluntary. Well, actually, Lucius had forced her down there._

'Hands on the Dark Lords' feet.'

A jolt passed through her as she touched the silken slippers and she wanted to cry out in pain.  She saw the heart of cultures sapped by scorn, he saw the half dead of the imprisoned in a myriad of countries their lives stripped down to bone, she saw bodies falling into craters pushed by those with weapons of annihilation, she saw the meagre existence of a people trapped in a nonexistent life and she felt the stony despair of those who had given up on hope of life. It took every atom in her not to vibrate, and saw nothing but her lovers' face before her as she lay there breathing the faint dust on the steps. 

_Severus_…__

'I see you decided to extend the courtesy of obeying me,' the potions master purred malevolently.

After long minutes had passed he spoke again to tell her to kiss the hem of his robes. She flashed a maddened look in his direction, which made Voldemort chortle quietly.

_Wasn't that enough?_

Struggling to move forward, she did so, taking the furthest part of his robe that she could hold, observing the Dark Mark embroidered all over it. As the aura around him screamed sadism and the pain of the world and she realised that he fed on it as whatever gripped him fed on him. Again she almost retched. Swallowing it down hastily, she lifted the heavy cloth smelling of reptile to her mouth and brushed it with her lips. 

_Would she ever be clean again?_

'There, that was not so difficult was it my dear?' cooed Voldemort indulgently. She shrank away, disgusted by his faux kindness. He would have her head off in a second if she truly displeased him. For the moment however, she was perceived to be useful. There was the strange sound of clapping and then Voldemort waved his hand at her to dismiss her and she fled in her mind, but walked with whatever dignity she had left back to her place. There was none left. She did not want to look at Severus at all though he felt his eyes burning her.

'And the third,' said Voldemort signalling to a guard who marched out in front of them gripping a goblet as if it were an unexploded bomb, his hand holding the stem with one and a cover on the top with the other. 'A product of my Lord Snape's. A poison to rival all poisons. A king amongst poisons.' There was again the enthusiastic clapping that went on for some time. 'It is time to test it don't you think my Lord?' Severus hesitated a fraction before bowing.

'Who shall we have?' and his eyes circuited the company. A quiver went through them and she could smell the fear. And then Voldemort did what she did not expect, nor in fact did anyone else. 'Malfoy perhaps?' All eyes went to him in shock, not least Malfoy's. By her side Narcissa did not flinch.

Lucius stuttered, 'm-m-my Lord?'

'I am sure you must be thirsty, take a sip my Lord Malfoy.'

'I – I – have always been your faithful servant.'

'So be the perfect servant and drink.'

Lucius couldn't keep his teeth from chattering and he had not even moved from where he was standing. His face was red.

_What was this about?_

Enraged, teeth bared, he suddenly pointed to Severus who was two Death Eaters from him and burst out. 'He is the one who should drink…the _traitor!'_

Severus' eyebrow went up – she could see it rise above his mask and he stood there, coolly and calmly and said nothing. She herself was frozen, not daring to think, hardly daring to blink.

'I _know_ he's a betrayer.'

'Come here my Lord.' Malfoy stumbled over to grovel at his feet, glaring at the lip curled potions master as he knelt.

'What do you know?'

'He is a spy my Lord.'

'I am aware of that. He is my spy.'

'No, no. A spy for Them.'

'I know that too. How else is he going to be on the inside?'

'But you don't know which side he is really on.'

'Are you suggesting that I cannot tell?'  

'Well – err – my Lord…'

'How do you know?'

'I – I – just _know_ my Lord.'

'You have no proof? No indication?'

Malfoy ground his teeth.

'No my Lord. But him and his woman – she - _she's_ the problem.'

'Indeed, we know all about her.' 

'But he _loves_ her.'

'And I expect my Death Eaters to enjoy themselves. It is only fitting,' and he grinned unpleasantly at the audience. 'I am not a prude, though I have no need of it myself.'

'My Lord Snape, do you have anything to say to this accusation?' as he focussed his slitted pupils in his direction. Her heart, she was sure, had ceased to beat.

'Only that My Lord Malfoy seems to have had too much claret,' he drawled silkily in his best cool manner. He seemed to ignore the whole thing, lazily standing there as if a fruit fly had deigned to brush him with its' wings. 'He wishes to – _love_ my wife too.' Many people tittered.

'Is this true?'          

'Well, I – well - in a manner of speaking, that is so my Lord.'

'Is it worth accusing a brother Death Eater without foundation over a woman do you think?'

'No my Lord, I take it back,' he said gratefully, hoping, assuming, praying that he was not going to die.

'My Lord Malfoy,' breathed Voldemort close to him, 'do you really think I would ask you to drink from that cup?' Lucius could not believe his ears.

'Err…no my Lord.'

'Quite right. I cannot afford to lose one of my right hand men. Eh my Lord Malfoy? It was a joke. A little joke of mine.' Lucius' face was a picture.

'Thank you, thank you, my true Lord, ' dribbled the Death Eater, his face now huddled in the hem of Voldemort's robes.

'Now get up,' he snapped, bonhomie gone and menace back in place. 'Return to where you belong.' Lucius rushed back to his place rearranging himself to restore some of his fallen dignity.

Elrin briefly closed her eyes in relief. Her relief did not last long as some poor soul was dragged into the front and made to drink the poison. 

_Was he an Auror? Was he an innocent of some kind? Was he one of their own who transgressed, who blinked at the wrong moment? _

There was no way of knowing, and in fact it didn't matter. He was a dead man walking. He looked almost too dazed to be frightened. He didn't even cry out as he sipped from the goblet held out to him but slumped immediately to the floor. 

'A little disappointing don't you think my Lord Severus? Not wildly entertaining. A bit of an anti-climax?'

'Yes my Lord,' murmured the Death Eater, 'but effective and useful in all sorts of situations. And there is no antidote. The only one that I am aware of without one. Not that there would be time to administer one, as you see.' Then in a pause, the potions master turned to the guards who brought the man there, 'Clear this out from here.'

'Well done my Lord Snape,' and Voldemort stood up and faced the upturned pale faces, 'and now I would like you all to enjoy yourself. Enjoy the bounty that I have given you and anticipate the greater bounty that is coming in the glorious future – very, very soon.'

Then, almost as one, they sank to the floor as he exited, his feet soft on the floor and as the doors closed behind him, she could feel the tension drop, the corsets let out, the handkerchiefs sliding on sweating brows. She turned to Narcissa and said quietly by her ear. 'As far as I know most if not all of the students are safe, including Draco.' The prominent nose swayed her way and her big eyes settled on her. 'Thank you,' she whispered and strode away, her tall carriage sweeping through the guests.

_What dignity. She wished that she had half of it._

Severus was suddenly at her elbow, 'You did well my Lady,' he murmured quietly and again, with his presence so strong and so close she wanted to look into his eyes, but did not risk it. Someone magicked up some waltz music, apparated wine and food in abundance. People began to dance and to chat, louder and more extravagantly than before because of the release of tension and the delight at being alive and not being on the wrong end of the Dark Lord's wrath. 

Elrin didn't know what to say to him. She was still reeling from the toxic experience of it all.  

He took her by the hand over to the drinks. 'Would you like a drink?'

She didn't know what to say. 'Whatever my Lord wishes.'

His sneer nearly split his face. 'A sherry then.'


	30. a seal upon thy heart

**APOLOGIES FIRST**

**I'm so sorry for the delay with this. Life sort of intervened.  I wasn't even sure if I was going to come back to this at all. This discovery, this process of writing has led me to very interesting pastures…so I say, be careful of what you wish for…**

Thank you especially Arachnes Child, for the terrific quote and for your support. Thank you for my wonderful friends who have always supported me…you know who you are…

_Superwitch_

General Warning: FROM HEREON IN, THERE IS A VEERING AWAY FROM CANON.

Chapter 30

From the Song of Solomon, 8:6.

Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death

                                                                        **A Seal Upon Thy Heart **

The rest of the evening was a blur. There was endless talking in which she had no interest or if she had, was unable to make any contribution to the conversations. This made her unutterably tired. There was a moment when, as her eyes lingered on the dancers, he noticed and took her on the dance floor but the pain of his presence with the barrier of the mask made it impossible for her to enjoy it. Their bodies were fused and she leaned into him but their minds were apart. As he held her close, she caressed the front of his jacket but he was on guard and so was she, dancing stiffly with her head averted from his. So she could not see his eyes glowering at her but she could sense them and he said nothing while they whirled around other couples. His hand was the only thing that felt warm and familiar and she clung to it as a climber would to a rock. Later on she and Narcissa exchanged a few polite words, which was a comfort, even with the tension still in the air and the coldly disciplined mother, but with a desperate glint in her eye, explained that no one had informed them about the school. There was silence in the Daily Prophet: presumably the Ministry had managed to silence them somehow. Narcissa casually asked her where the children were and Elrin told her that as far as she knew, they were all were safe although their whereabouts was unknown. Three students had broken legs and an arm, but they were all Gryffindors. While she was talking to her, Elrin's own thoughts circled and crashed, circled and crashed in an effort to come to terms with what had happened and what might happen, but it seemed as if the world were folding round her ears, everyone's ears soon and she felt more alone than she had ever felt. She wished that she had Fawkes to speak to or Dumbledore, but they seemed a light years away. At one particular moment she thought he was going to make her dance with Lucius, as they were talking, but he did not and she nearly blushed with thankfulness when they eventually moved away from them. 

Late they came to their rooms and by that time she was nearly dropping with fatigue. They entered freely, as there were no longer any guards outside the doors and she flung off her shoes. After placing his cloak away in the wardrobe, he summoned a goblet of brandy. As she pulled down her hair and took her jewellery off, he threw himself into a substantial chair with his drink. He exhaled in irritable style and glanced up at her, amusement in his scorning mouth, his finger rubbing around the rim of the goblet, his all-consuming eyes on her through the remaining mask. What so appalled her was that she was drawn to that figure in the chair, one leg nonchalant over the other, his lower leg swinging, despite or even because of his condition. His presence was intoxicating, and it pointed out her vulnerability with clarity. She was aware of his appraisal of her as she stood there and experienced the terrible desire to sink down before him on the floor, wanting to press her cheek to the buttoned trouser leg that swung there, to offer herself to him. He was watching her though he appeared to be concentrating on his drink. After a silence he spoke and his voice sent shudders down her spine.

'Approach me,' he demanded in his deliberate silky voice, swirling the brandy in the goblet. Surprised, she looked up and was forcibly reminded of his Death Eater status: a good part of his mask was still glittering in the candlelight, though it was gradually disappearing.

'Do I really need to repeat myself?' he said, unblinking. She remembered his warning about crossing him. Slowly she came towards him, but halted a little distance away.

'Remove your dress.'

'I'm not your plaything,' she snapped. His head jerked up at that, and the threat that came from him was palpable, and she felt the thrill of the electricity between them, jolts of invisible energy striking and coiling into her body. There was no damage from this intrusion, but the shuddering sensations shocked her by their intensity and had they gone on she would have passed out either from pleasure or from pain, she was not sure which. Deciding that it was best to co-operate, she undid her bodice at the back and prepared to wriggle the whole dress over her head, knowing that she was revealing her body bit by bit against the dark crimson material with her white thighs, belly and swinging breasts and then her arms for the pleasure of his gaze. His expression however, did not alter and he devoured the brandy and curled his long fingers sheltered by the white cuffs around the curves of the goblet. Impatiently, she threw the dress over a nearby chair.

What was she going to do now? 

She felt embarrassed standing there in her knickers and nothing else. After the evenings atrocities it felt like an unbearable frivolity, a violation and her heart banged against her ribs. There was silence in the room.

'What is it that I want you to do next?' he smirked, licking his finger from the sticky liquor. Her legs started to tremble, but not visibly: she could feel the nerves in them vibrating and between them the familiar gush of her bodies' heat. He knew that that gesture had an effect on her and it annoyed her that he was using that knowledge while remnants of the Death Eater paradigm shrouded him like darkness before the dawn. She preferred to feign ignorance as a protest.

'No, I don't know,' she said resentfully and tossed her hair in what she imagined was a careless and rebellious manner, to see him freeze for a second. It was only the fleetest of pauses and then he returned to his casual perusal of her semi-nakedness.

'Now remove your knickers,' he said indifferently. She hesitated.

_Should she be doing this?_

Lover though he was whose rings she wore with pride, she wavered. Her wedding ring was throbbing like an insistent heartbeat and her fingers sought the pain and tried to feel its' message. She aught not disobey him; he was still unpredictable, unstable. 

'Do I have the impression that I am continuing to wait?' Slowly she caught hold of the tops of her knickers with both thumbs and thrust them down her legs and tossed them away in abandoned irritation. She had heard that nakedness around those who were clothed was a powerful feeling. She wished it were so. He was looking into the depths of his goblet.

_Was he going to look? Was he trying to make her feel more uncomfortable than she did already? I have more pride than that, thank you. You can only push so far._

For some unknown reason, she had a flashed image of his outstretched form, prostrate before Voldemort, hands flat on the floor above his head, the blackness of his hair and robes spread out in submission.__

She turned away.

'Do not turn your back on me, my lady,' he snarled softly. Her stomach sank to its' lowest depths and her buttocks clenched in fear.

A further thrill surged through her groin. 

_Would her body always betray her like this?_

_Had she not done enough for one evening?_

'Bring yourself in front of me. You know that you want to, I can read it from here.' The pull of him made her heart wrench and her whole body wanted to respond. Only her mind fought against it. She didn't want to lie with him while he had the glitter round his eyes and he was under its' spell. There could also be the danger of inadvertently touching it.

'Are you afraid of me?'  There was something in his voice that was different.

'Yes,' she said quickly facing him again, before she stammered.

'Nevertheless, approach me,' he insisted. The Death Eater state appeared to make them especially hungry. She remembered the overarching greediness of Lucius when he tried to devour her.

'I will not,' she breathed, standing her ground, proud and upright, and then turned, heart beating at her disobedience, aware of the movement of her breasts and the presentation to him of her backside as she walked away. His lip curled, with the mask almost gone, just lingering in the depths of his sockets.

'There is no harm here,' he said. She thought she detected in his voice a slightly softer tone and slowed. 

_Was he returning to himself?_

Her throat tightened in hope and she wondered about what to do. After a few seconds pause, standing by the bathroom door, she came closer to him cautiously. She didn't know what to do with her hands. 

_Where did one put them when one was naked_?

Self-consciously, she joined them in front of her.

'Put your hands down by your side,' he murmured quietly, his eyes making the blood quickening over her body in a great rush.

_Heavens, she had made love with this man so many times and yet here she was like a virgin. He so enjoys sitting there, fully clothed, tight in his frockcoat, buttoned up to his neck, shielding his emotions as well as his body. _

She, with nothing to hide but her thoughts and even they seemed naked in front of him, breathed shallowly, her arms exposing her body for him.

As his mask was diminishing, should she risk denying him?

Her body craved to seek his warmth, to lower herself onto him, to splay her thighs and lower her groin onto his legs tight in their black material, to touch his waiting chest, slip her hand into his hair and angle her head to kiss his luxurious mouth but her mind and her heart wanted to run, to escape the corruption of this terrible night. 

_It was wrong, wrong, wrong._

'Elrin, I….'

And she knew immediately that there had been a shift. His eyes burned but were no longer the forecourt of some hellish dimension and she saw a look of pain shoot across his brow. At that wavering of him, she clicked out of the trance she had been in and her mind's confusion tumbled out of their locked prison. He saw her change too, saw her retreat before she had moved physically, and fractionally learned forward. 

'Come to me,' he whispered his voice hoarse with need. This plea struck her more forcibly than his assumed command of her and there was a second where she might have flung herself forward to him. Instead, freed, the bird of capture sped away to sanctuary. She did not stop to look at his face as she fled to the bathroom.

Closing the door with '_Alohum'_, she frantically ran the bath with the password. It was like the one at home. 

Home. What a joke.

As soon as the sunken bath was deep enough, she hurled herself in as if she couldn't get closer to wholesomeness fast enough. The only thought in her head was to wash, and wash and scrub and rinse and scrub again, making her skin sore in the process. She threw in as many herbal potions as possible and shampooed her hair and did it again and again. Scrubbing her lips, she even put some potion in her mouth to cleanse it, which tasted horrible, but made her feel fractionally better. 

_Would she ever be clean again?_

Her finger was torn and her hand was covered in blood where she had pressed it throughout the evening. Her other hand was swollen from her wedding ring.

He did not enter and she floated in the hot water, sick to the stomach. She didn't want him to come in. she wanted to stay there forever, and he to remain outside. 

_Had he done this Death Eater business too long and was not able to distinguish good from evil? Had he fooled her all along? Had she been duped into thinking that he truly cared? Had he married her… for her Sorcerer's abilities? She wanted him; oh how she wanted him…it didn't bear thinking about. _

The evening had sunk her into the lowest possible abyss. She had witnessed one attempted suicide and one murder, an announcement of a forthcoming coup d'état and she had been made to – grovel was the only word – to the monster that was responsible. That had to be enough. She felt she had stretched so far for his sake and for the sake of what he was _supposed_ to be doing, that she had reached her furthest limit and lying in the water, looking up at the decorated ceiling, felt that her mind had snapped. Many times she rewashed her hair and soaped her body, frantic to get out the stink of the horror out of it. The only satisfaction she remembered was Lucius' face when she told him about Xiomara. It looked like the bastard actually cared about her. Narcissa was a lonely figure. How she managed to be married to him was a mystery to her. 

How long she stayed there she had no idea, but the water was womb-like and comforting and the silence blissful except for the thoughts screaming loud in her head and those eventually became weaker. Since there was no sense of night or day in that place, it didn't matter. After a while, exhausted, she drifted off to sleep, lying on the side of the pool, half in and half out of the water, her hair tangled and wet and her skin red with scraping it, blood from her hand seeping onto the floor. She didn't hear Severus come quietly in after quite some time and who, stripping off, waded in and lifted her out with the utmost care, holding her slippery limbs against him and her wet hair hanging loose over his shoulder. It took him a few moments to get a good purchase and she murmured as he moved her, though he couldn't hear what she said. Dripping, he took her out and laid her on the top of the bed and fetched soft towels and dried her raw pink skin with a gentleness and a respect that could generally only be seen while stirring dragonfly wings into his favourite cauldron. ****

He could have used his wand, but he didn't want to, until it came to her hair and decided it was the only effective way of drying it. He noticed her hands and searched for a potion in his pockets and spread some on, carefully and diligently circling his fingers on each of her fingers that had a power ring on it and then brought his lips down to kiss them both. Vaguely aware of him attending her, she murmured but could not protest or do anything but lie there, not even ashamed at her helpless nakedness and the calm hands over it. She could hear him as from a distance muttering his Latin while he tended her. After assuring himself of her sufficient dryness, he wrapped her in a silk sheet as if she were breakable and he were wrapping her in tissue paper. It was as if she were a child swaddled and pulling down her half of the bedclothes, enfolded her and she could feel his safety and his damp warmth as he lifted her. There was one thing she did manage to ask as he placed her onto the bed. 'Is it off now?'

'Yes,' he answered softly. 'Go to sleep,' then he arranged her hair comfortably, pushing stray hairs away from her frowning brow and was about to kiss her forehead when her eyes fluttered open for a second or two and closed again and he withdrew. She drifted into the cocoon of her mind until he climbed in the other side and was half-aware of his presence until she fell asleep beside him.

The next day aught to have been better, but it wasn't. It was frightening how little she felt about anything. She was numb, unseeing, lost. Assuring herself that the mask had evaporated or whatever it did, she noticed the darkness of his eyes watching her, but she did not want to meet them and they spent the next morning mostly in silence. When they had to speak it was as short as possible and about practicalities. There was no way that she could eat breakfast.

_Food sent from the monster. She would not eat it._

Severus had to go out. 'I will return soon.'

_Probably to see Him. What would he be plotting with him about now?_

She said nothing, staring into a full cup of coffee and she was watching the skim on it.

'Elrin…' he started, moving towards her, then stopped at a quick but noticeable glare from beneath her hair.

'I will return,' he growled and swept out of the room.

As she did not dare to go out of it, she spent the day pacing the room, her thoughts circling and crashing, circling and crashing in an effort to come to terms with what had happened and what might happen, and it seemed as if the world were folding round her ears, and soon to be around everyone's ears. She felt more alone than she had ever been. She wished that she had Fawkes to speak to or Dumbledore, but they seemed a million light years away. The auric bond with Severus pulled at her savagely and her body felt the grief and pain of it as she pulled away from him.

When he returned in the evening, later even than she had expected or indeed he expected, the tension between them was at an all time high. He made to kiss her, but she turned away and her heart was ripped out. Her silence was ominous. When the food arrived they sat down at the small dining table at the far end of the room and as she stared at the food, he snapped, 'Eat.'

She was delighted to reply angrily, 'No.'

With a large intake of breath, he threw his napkin down. 'Damn you woman, _eat_.'

Glaring at him, she defied his orders. She had had enough of them. Her eyes glittered at him across the table. Afraid but with fury erupting from nowhere within her, breaking through the stupor like lava, she blurted out, 'If you'll pardon me, I've have had my fill of 'obedience'. 

He studied her.

'I don't _have_ to,' she glared, body tense, ready to defy, 'and I choose _not_ to.' Cursing, he got up and reached for his wand and with a start, she wondered if he was going to curse her or bind her but instead he put a Silencing Charm on the door. 

'So that is your problem.'

'My _problem_?' she yelped.

'It was essential for you to obey,' he said, looking at her steadily.

'I know it was, _Mr_. _Death Eater_… _Mr_. _Great Potions Poisoner_,' she cried. His head snapped up. If there were going to be anything that would hurt it would be that. 

'Do you imagine I enjoyed that?'

'Well, maybe you did! It seemed to me that you and your _kind_...'

'And just what _is_ my kind?' he whispered icily leaning forward, arm on the table and she knew she had gone too far. Her anticipation as to what he might do made her heart beat loud in her ears but she carried on regardless, indignant and blushing with anger.

'Your twisted 'friends', your….'

'Do you think your desires so important that they eclipse what needs to be done?' He growled silkily.

'It seems to me your desires appear to have prominence despite what needs to be done,' she retorted.

'My desires to kill an innocent Muggle for example?'

'Well, I didn't see you exactly squirm, there was no evidence of a scrap of conscience.'

'I should think not. I would be dead now and you with it and the Muggle to boot. Nothing would have been accomplished.'

'And what are we going to do?'

He was silent.

'You can't say, can you?' she provoked, eyes wide, angry. 'There is no way out of this.'

'We are at a precarious point, yes,' he admitted.

'Precarious? We are in a death-trap and our world and the further world too.'

_Our world._

'We cannot afford to panic. That would be self-indulgence,' he said. 'There is more at stake here than your overweening pride. There is a whole world community that is depending on what we do here. We have no room for worrying about ourselves.'

'Not while you are top dog, no, you have nothing to worry about,' she cried.

'You will stop now,' he said, a threat in his voice.

'I will do no such thing,' she shouted.

'Elrin, I said – _silence,_' he roared, getting up. '_He_ will hear.' 

'I thought you just put the Silencing Charm on,' she spat.

'It is not the volume. He has ways of hearing extreme emotion. Anger is his favourite. He feeds off it.'

Well, maybe he _should _hear_'._ She knew she was acting recklessly and the more she thought it, the worse she became. The memory of Voldemort's smug acceptance of her debasement enraged her beyond reason and he – he was responsible.

'You…_you_…._made_ _me_….' She was speechless, so she picked up a plate of food and hurled him at it. Peas rocketed off him and the potatoes missed. She wasn't sure where the duck went. The plate didn't break but whirled on the floor then crashed down making a loud clatter, gravy on the floor.

Damned plates magicked for breakage. Wasn't there something she could break? She looked at him hungrily. If she could have…

Looking for a weapon, she tried a tall wine goblet, but her aim was pathetic, he just brushed it aside and it smashed against the wall. He just stood there.

_At least it broke._ _He wasn't using his wand on her. Why wasn't he using his wand? Damn him. He just stands there._

'The swagger, the contempt, the _hubris_,' she shouted. 'I have never, ever seen such idiocy.'

_That was a lie. She had, at home._

'The psychotic inhumanity….and _you_ part of it!'__

'Elrin,' he said, scowling, as he made his way to her, ducking her renewed frantic efforts with cutlery and vegetable dishes. There wasn't much in the room to throw. She eyed a large vase on the other side. He was close to her now and he grabbed her shoulders holding them steady. She beat his chest and his arms with her fists, furious at his strength, furious at his treatment of her, furious at herself, furious with Malfoy, furious at the stupid followers of someone she didn't even want to think about, furious with Xiomara, furious with Dumbledore, furious with her parents, furious with their loathsome friends, furious with the world. To add to her diminution of pride she realised that tears were flowing down her face and she was shouting 'How could you _do_ that? How could you do that to _me_? I loathe you, I despise you, I detest you.' Words were tumbling out and she knew that she was not being fair, but it hurt, it hurt so badly she wanted someone to hurt for it.

He was pulling her towards him and she was trying to thump him in the chest but he waited until she had run out of insults. Her eyes must be red and swollen, and her face blotchy, but she didn't care. He enfolded her as she gradually clung to him as tears ran constantly down his front soaking his jacket with wet patches. It felt a weakness to cry and such a womanly thing to be doing after such an intense ordeal but she continued to weep, heaving and coughing against him. He held her until the tears lessened and stopped, silently enveloping her in his arms.

'I hate you' she gulped.                                                      

'Do you?' he asked silkily and she knew then that she was lost. 

'How else could I feel after that? The insanity, the degradation, the horror of it all.' 

'And how else are we to bring his downfall, but play him?'

'He was playing with us. We are not bringing his downfall, he is rising.'

'We will find a way.'

'I don't think we will. He's got all the cards,' she said, crushing herself against him, and he answered with his embrace and the kissing of her hair.

'Do you not realise that I have been through all this myself?' he said quietly, stroking her back. 'That I have thrown all this at myself.'

She felt ashamed.

'Many times. Many, many times.'

'You're different.'

He coughed a laugh. 'Am I? Do you believe me so unbreakable?'

She looked up at his beloved face and searched it. 'No. Yes. No. I don't know.'

'Well, that gives me plenty of options, doesn't it?' he smirked. His hand was rubbing warm circles on her shoulder blade. She wanted him to keep on doing it. 

'I was – afraid…that …you….'

'Had…gone over to the other side?'

'Had….always been on the other side.'

He held her face with one hand. 'Let me read you,' and he looked into her swimming eyes and all she could see was his familiar potent-black eyes and his stony face scrutinizing her. It made her want to sink into him. Now, as he read, she realised that she could read him.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 

'There is nothing to forgive,' he said, for the second time to her. 'Come to bed.'

'I…don't…'

'Come to bed,' he demanded softly. 'Do as you are told.'

She smiled and rubbed her hands over his arms.

'I don't want to…'

'We can just…lie there.'

'All right.'

Reluctantly allowing him to move out of her embrace, she watched him throw his shoes and frockcoat off and sat on the bed drawing her onto it. Lying there, they nestled close until eventually after an hour or so, they had some leftovers to eat that she had not thrown and then undressed and got into bed. She fell asleep almost immediately with his arms cradling her tightly.

Deep in the night she woke with a start. The sheets rustled as she slid her arm over to get closer to his body only to find it missing, her hand discovering that his side of the bed was flat and having little warmth under the covers. The empty night gripped her in its' jaws and she turned to search for him, cursing all the Voldemort's of the world and their lackeys, not expecting to see him there, only to notice him sitting silent in the same chair as the night before, his distinctive profile illuminated only by the flickering night candle, the rest of him lost in the gloom.

Shifting out of bed, she wound the silken sheet round her breasts and let it fall down round her ankles and as she tiptoed over to him, she could hear it shuffle behind her on the floor, her bare feet making no noise on the floor as he might have been asleep, his body rigid in the great old chair. How long had he been there? Dressed in his black silk dressing gown, he was part of the room, dark and ambiguous and as she approached him round to the front, his face was mostly in shadow. He was awake. He did not stir but his glazed eyes returned from somewhere else at her approach to calmly rest on her as she knelt on the floor between his legs. Remaining in silence and with a grim face, he spoke quietly and steadily in the darkness.

'I can never tell you how much I love you. You do strange things to me. You turn me upside down and my stomach twists whenever you look at me. I do not want to be weakened by loving you, yet here I am. When I believe I am weakened, you show me bravery and when I think I know where I am going, you turn me in another direction. I long for you and then when I do find you before me, I am confused. You break every barrier I have and I don't know how you do it. I am unyielding and yet there are times when I want everything for you. Often your face haunts me while I am working and your voice in my head wakes me at night.  My focus and function is on serving justice against the Dark, but I am drawn to protecting and caring for you above all else. I am harsh because I have to be and yet for love of me you do my bidding and graciously too. There is nothing I can say that will truly express what it is that you do to me.'

He looked up as if he wanted to disassociate himself from that which he had spoken aloud. Proud and cautious, his caring lay hidden deep within his complexity as a bright bird of paradise hidden within the dark forests of his personality. Angry though he could be, cynical and brusque, the brightness remained constant for those who could see, and it had, for a while, stretched its' wings in her presence. She was in wonder at this miracle. 

Stunned by his declaration, she searched his face. Putting her hands on his silk encased legs and as her heart filled, she lifted herself up and with one hand holding the sheet in place, kissed him on his part-opened lips. The tenderness of her kiss and the sweetness of his response drove spears of delight and desire through her whole body. She did it again, and again, her hair falling down over his chest and he accepted them reverently until he began to stir and their mouths fused together and slowly, slowly his body joined hers in a slow sensuous dance. Leaning as she was over him, trapping him in the chair as she had done in the restaurant, her knee on the chair nudging his groin, the sheet had started to unwind as so placed both of her hands on his shoulders for balance. It made him groan in her mouth and the vibration of it echoed in between her legs. The mysterious connections of the human body, the links of one end of it to the other, seemingly so far apart. He was the only one who had ever vibrated through her like this, he was the only one who left her breathless and gasping for more, he was the only one who drew her by simply waiting for her loyalty and her acquiescence to him.  

Affecting dispassion he invisibly drew her towards him as surely as he had thrown Devil's Snare around her and his thumping heart told her that the triumph veiled within it was because he sought her surrender. Arrogance perhaps, but it spoke also of control and mastery as well as an unwillingness to overthrow her own will which he could do so easily with his own. Yesterday it had slipped its' bonds but now, back in control, he magnetized her with the fullness of his being, his desires shuddering under the weight of their need.

 'You could have just said 'I love you,' she whispered mischievously, her breath hot in his ear. Smiling gleefully, she nibbled and sucked his ear, brushed his hair aside and observed the connection between that and the twitch of his growing hardness at his groin against her stomach. The sheet slipped and her breasts fell free over him and she craved for him to encompass them, her nipples hard with longing. The taste of his mouth and the scent of him overwhelmed her senses as always, and in her growing shortness of breath and urgent exploration of his mouth to find him, she pulled his dressing gown lapels apart and slid her hand onto his chest and caressed it slowly, feeling the fine and elegant hairs there in between his erect nipples matching hers as the material slipped further down. She moved so that her body rested on his, his mouth stopped moving and his breathing more intense. His hands left their moorings on the arms of the chair and placed themselves on her back, the sheet catching his thumbs. He brushed it away, and it fell to the floor so that it exposed the long indentation of her back, her hips and the curve of her bottom. His hands circled and rubbed her back until they gradually made their way south . Feeling the cooler air on her nakedness she grasped his hair roughly and planted her mouth again on his and her tongue was more urgent and his own pressed back, viper strong. The serpent was beginning to rouse. To greet him, she moved her other knee onto the other chair arm, her open groin against his stomach, and he groaned again, eyes closed, feeling her ardency, her willing flesh as he wanted his own being thrust into hers, in a sea of consummation and release. Slowly, he moved his hands in between them both and inserted his fingers into her stretched groin and in immediate longing, thrust against him instinctively, her mouth gasping against his cheek.

'Severus, I…..' and he shut her mouth with his own, swallowing her words and with his kiss, moving in rhythm to his fingers, sending her dizzy with abandonment. Rocking her quietly, her wetness lubricating his hand, his other hand grasping her buttocks towards him she could have expired at that moment and been content, her arms around his neck, hips seeking him, his tongue thrusting steadily, her body melting into oblivion, into his control, into his dark forest into the lair of the bright bird whose sharp beak faced her, bold and true.

And then he disappointed her as he gently pulled out of her. Wondering what was wrong, she jerked to examine his face, but it was expressionless. 

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.'

'There must be.'

'Rest, rest against me for a while. There is no hurry.'

'But – but –' Her desire almost at a peak, she couldn't believe he had stopped.

_Was he tormenting her? _

'Rest?' she squeaked indignantly. 'How can I…? You're getting off on this aren't you? Torturing me and enjoying it…'

'This is not about torturing you,' he said soberly and held her, pushing her chin onto his shoulders. 

'Although…if it does…then….well.,' he said not without mischief in his voice. 'I consider it an added bonus.'

'You bastard!' she said, head up with an angry blush on her neck and shoulders, rising to her face.

'Ssshhh,' be quiet, rest.'

Her aching groin which spread its' necessity all over her body, needed release, she found it difficult to keep still, but she clung to him. She could not show her affection or whisper endearments, she could not bear to, but did as he said, half lying on him, breathing slower and feeling her body cool slightly and her urgency dull its' edges. For a while they remained there, steadying, he winding a tress of her hair and brushing it against his lips. She hid her face in his own hair and smelled the heady smell of it and slowly her body relaxed, though it was unsatisfied. She was wide-awake and in no mood for sleeping.

'I trust you are rested?'

'Not that I needed it, but yes, I am,' she replied sulkily.

'I found that bed rather oppressive for some unknown reason,' he said, staring at it.

'Oh, so do I. Is it magicked or something?'

'No, I do not believe so, but it may have entertained a transgression that is offensive to the human spirit, despite it's finery. More than likely, it has been affected by a whole miscellany of unpleasant offences. It might explain how easily Lucius came through to you. In fact this whole room is not – healthy. With his nose scanning the rooms, he spoke as if his own office was the outpost of paradise and this its' opposition, but against this sinister decadence, she knew his office to be an honourable, if not always comfortable haven of vocation and scholarship. She had not really looked at these rooms properly, had accepted it as her prison unthinkingly, her mind focussed only on him.

Suddenly, he rose, staring beyond the walls.

'Get dressed. Now. Quickly.'

Surprised, she was about to protest, when she saw the look on his face and her questions were immediately quelled. Throwing on her clothes, shaking a little at the urgency, she was more than a little disturbed by the ache in her for him. He completed his own dressing, not a clumsy rushing like hers, but a smooth and skilful event. As she was smoothing her hair into some kind of vague order, he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her towards the door. 

'What's wrong?' 

'Nothing's wrong. I just want to get out of here for a while. Come.'

Irritated that he was moving on a whim, but since her body desired so much to be glued to his, she followed. They made their way along the blackened corridors with the low night flames that shivered in their sconces and threw shadows onto dripping walls. The sound of their footsteps stalked them as they fled along the narrow passageways and rumblings and odd movements could be heard coming from under various doors. She did not wish to enquire after their nature and he just curved a lip, gripped her hand more tightly and jerked her swiftly away from them. He was pulling her strongly but not too fiercely, so she was just able to keep up against his long paces and was just grateful that she was with him and not alone in these oppressive corridors and tramping up long steps upward into gloomier and darker areas.

As they turned a particularly bleak corner, the light dimmed to almost nothing and they were just able to see each other as only a little more than shadows. He cursed and pulled back. Then she could hear somewhere in a nearby place, mutterings and foulness and the odd snatch of bleak laughter. It sounded like several male voices, probably guards she guessed.

Severus glanced at her and she did not miss the look and waited for him to speak, eyes wide in the dim light. Bending to her he muttered in her ear, 'I need you to go to them.' Before she could argue, her mouth already open to do so, he glared at her. 'I will be behind you.'

'Why?' and then fell to silence, as he was obviously not going to be forthcoming. 

'What do you want me to do?' she asked just as they heard a thump accompanied the sounds of a quarrel which flared up, but which as quickly died down.

'Go out there and ask them for – ' and he used his wand to conjure an unlit torch, ' a light. I want you to distract them for a moment.'

'Then what?'

'Just do that.' When I indicate to you, move aside.'

'All right.' If you want me to.'

'I do.'

She listened to the grunts and the scraping movements beyond and gripped the torch hard, hesitated and with a final glance at him, moved around the turning as if she had come from some distance and was casually walking towards the guards. She did not see the quiet smile on her lover's face as he watched her go. 

As she neared the guards, she could smell their pungency, and assumed they were not human. It was a heady sweat of neglect and corruption and their speech was almost intelligible, but she understood their place in evolution and it was not high.

When they discovered her in their midst, silence shattered their mutterings and they gaped at her appearance out of the darkness. In a low lamplight, she could see them grasping cards in their long claws, idling over a barrel between them, cigarette smoke swirling around five reptilian heads, all blinking at Elrin, black stubs hanging from lipless lips. No tail twitched. It was a scene frozen in time and she took advantage of it.

'Erm…excuse me. Have you got a light?' Her voice echoed falsely in her head and it seemed higher pitched than normal, a false gaiety plain for anyone to read. There was still silence, but then one of them, a heavyset guard with distinctive marked scales sneered.

'There is plenty in the sconces,' he said shortly.

'Oh yes, how silly of me,' she stammered, slippery with sweat, waving the torch in her hand. The guards looked interested while she stood there, busy eyes raking her up and down. One guard rose and lifted himself up to move beside her and as she noticing butterbeer stains down his uniform and was aware that his rankness poured out from him, he unsubtly sniffed her, which, made her red with embarrassment. 

_Where was he?_

'So, why are you here all alone?' he asked, greed oozing from every reptilian pore, but cautious.

_Why was she here?_

'I – I got lost.'

Another guard got up, coming close, his crimson eyes wandering down the cleavage of her dress. The black stub in blackened claws he thrust into his slit of a mouth and he puffed his evil smoke over her face. 

'Excuse me,' she said as she moved lightly round the two of them, breaking the invisible net of their surrounding of her; she lifted her torch towards a nearby sconce, which was smouldering dimly. Then awkwardly, she lifted herself on tiptoes to angle her torch within it and was aware of them surprised by her casual but easy movement of escape and then they shifted back around her, joined by their companions, cards forgotten. They made strong shadows as they crowded her in, effectively imprisoning her. She smiled desperately back; sweat pouring down her vertebrae, knowing that it made no difference to her fate written in their visceral expressions. She had lately seen worse and touched worse, yet these numbers frightened her, their absence of serious thought patterns, the stench of their dissipation and their greedy desire had her wanting to claw her way out.

_Severus?_

The one she took to be their leader moved in front of her and it was at that moment, she heard the deep voice of her rescuer.

'Good evening gentlemen,' drawled the Death Eater. His voice had a vibration to it like a whiplash of warning, issued through a veneer of dissolute culture. They immediately froze and slowly turned. The leader of the pack lifted his nose up and already has his weapon out in one swift movement from the leather of his wide belt. The others parted so that the two – man and creature could face one another. Severus smiled a twisted smile as they arranged themselves in opposition, derision stretching their warped faces. Severus was not wearing his Death Eater uniform, and they obviously had never seen him before. One sneer was met with five but Severus appeared to relax, enjoying the tension and she felt a rush of relief at the guard's attention being directed to more interesting entertainment: or an additional entertainment, before the dessert. She watched her lover standing steady and unconcerned, the inky shine of his hair and the deep shadow of his appearance not affecting the guards. As a group they were unimpressed, not fearful, merely intrigued at his appearance and righteous in their guardianship of their territory. This lack of fear and the unpredictable nature of them made her shudder as she felt her arm grasped and instinctively retreated, pulling at him. She should not have moved until Severus had said so, and was aware of the flick of his eyes towards her from his main opponent. 

'Enjoying yourself gentlemen?' he said casually, eyes back on the leader who, his sneer of delight resting on the bloodless reptile. The tension dissipated instantly and she could feel them all relax, including the claws digging into her arm. At that instant he roared 'Down' then '_Stupify'_, his wand pointing at those remaining standing. Elrin had thrown herself to the floor – scratching herself out of the guard's hold on her and hit the cold stonework. A blast of blue shivering light crackled around them all and they fell instantly, the one beside her on top of her, his foetid smell and damp heaviness pressing annoyingly and intently against her. She fought the weight off as Severus yanked him and threw his body carelessly aside. Lifting her up, he investigated her scratch wound and gently held her arm while he murmured healing words. 

'I told you not to move before I gave you the word. You deserve to have this as a reminder,' he growled as the skin gradually began to heal She sighed. 

'I'm sorry. I was trying to be helpful. I knew you would blast them and want me out of the way.'

'How often have I to tell you to obey me in these matters?' A rush of blood to her face betrayed her embarrassment. 

'If you won't tell me what you intend….'

'Do you trust me?' His face, deeply shadowed, bore down on her as if the darkness had asked the light it if trusted it. Something held in the balance and then she sank into the chasm that lay before her heart.

'Yes,' she whispered, shamed into answering.

'Then kindly do as I instruct you. I have your safety in mind always.'

She lowered her eyes, feeling his towering presence and the scrutiny that went with it and shivered. 

_She might as well have taken the Patriarchium._

'Not at all,' he replied, making her jump, 'You have the space for your choosing.

'Does it make any difference to you?' she asked, piqued.

'It makes all the difference in the world. That you should choose to trust me. What more could I ask for?'

Her skin was becoming whole and fresh, pain and reptilian blood leaving the site.

'Can you not feel the difference?' he asked quietly. Her heart pounded with the significance of it, her breathing ragged. Her upbringing, her reason, her walls all crumbled before him. Her body's response to him was so familiar now and she wanted to slide down into a state of joyful surrender.

'Yes,' she agreed, even more quietly. As the seconds ticked by the tension between them shivering like bolts until he quietly bent forward and kissed her on the lips, a swift beauty of a kiss, a respectful, gentle softness that had her thighs wet with her fluidic desire. 

Severus however, turned and eyed the bodies scattered around them and muttered with his wand**: **'_Obliviate_…'and then manifested a crate of butterbeer. 

''That'll keep them busy.'

'Why,' she asked, 'why did you need that charade..why didn't you just blast them immediately?'

'They're notoriously difficult to curse which is why they make good guards. They needed to be relaxed. If we had come upon them cold, I would not have been able to overcome them. Come,' and he took her by the hand. 

As they moved into further darkness, she asked 'What are they guarding?'

'Nothing much, just their corner of the castlerealm. But they were in my way.'

'To what?' she asked, but for reply he took her hand and led her away down further corridors and then a multitude of long steps upward. 

Soon, she noticed a change in the quality of the air: a warmer and exhilarating softness that flowed towards them and it was not long before they burst out into the open air. It was like coming into another world altogether: a world of life and freedom, familiar and unfamiliar at he same time. Breathing deeply, they sucked in the scented night; while battlements surrounded them like sentinels stark and shadowed, while above them stars welcomed them with their high glitter. The day must have been hot and dry because it was sultry warm now and in the soft air, their souls relaxed. The sinister vibrations beneath their feet were fainter. He began to mutter with his wand and a luxurious silk carpet spread before them both at waist height. She managed to partly stifle a laugh, only to be silenced by his narrowed eyes.

'This is a humorous object?' he growled, eyebrow raised.

'Well, in our world, my world, not my world, oh dear, in my old world, yes. It's an object of magic in myths and children's dreams.' 

He sneered. 'So much for your world.' 

She looked at its' sleek beauty waving gently if it had some soft breeze over its surface and had to agree.

'Get on,' he murmured. 

'What?' she cried. 'Are you….?' Fears of sailing above in a clear sky shook her composure. She had been relaxed, but now she was all ice and terror. A broomstick was bad enough, but at least you had something to cling onto. His steady look made her look again at the carpet, inviting but deceptive she felt. She might regret getting on. Elrin swallowed and looked at him, pleading, but there was no response. He spoke no more, just waited. Her breathing quickened and she absently chewed her lower lip. She remembered her agreement to do as he bid. This might be one time where she ducked out of it, but as she thought that, she found herself placing her shaking hands on the carpet. It was flexible, and seemed to respond to her touch like a friendly animal. Then before she could doubt herself and it, leaned out and rolled onto it and flattened herself onto the centre, face down, her skirt spread out, arms stretched out to try and make the least movement. _Supposing the carpet just collapsed, like carpets would without a floor._

'Good girl,' he said softly and joined her but stood upright on it, feet astride her waist. She could feel him above her and it made her ill to think of him up there like that. One tip and he would be off. She naturally distrusted the flexible nature of carpets and pressed herself further into the pile. 

'Turn around,' he said, 'face me,' and so slowly, carefully, in case she fell off, manoeuvred so that she lay supine and saw him way above, tall and confident. She wanted to close her eyes but was aware that there was something disturbing quivering through her. There was something profoundly exciting to be in this position, with him elevated and being nearer his shoes than his face. Astride he gazed down at her and she swore she saw elation flow across his face. Maybe it echoed her own. 

She was not immediately aware of their elevation until she saw a tower slide quietly below and realised that they had slipped out of the immediate range of the castle and gasped, breathing quick and short, clinging to something that could not be clung to. 

'You are safe'.

'I'm sure I am,' she agreed, shaking, 'but my body doesn't seem to know that.'

'Then look to me,' he said. 'Concentrate on me.'

She did, but then broke away, a stubborn streak of rebellion and curiosity made her look sideways and a little down and nearly shrieked with fear. Far, far below snaked glittering black rivers, jagged tops of high rock, black, black forests and misty plains far away. Closing her eyes, she froze, lying rigid, head swimming. It was totally different to riding a broomstick. 

'Hold me please,' she begged.

'No,' he replied slowly. There was a pause, then said, 'I want you to undress.'

Her eyes flew open. 

_Was he crazy?_

'Are you crazy?' She stuttered at him, almost forgetting her fear for at least two seconds. He remained motionless and dark, obliterating the stars behind him. 

'Take your clothes off. All of them.' 

The insanity of it shook her foundations. 

'I can't,' she said, mumbling. 'I can't move. I'm terrified. Can't you see that?'

'I can,' he replied.

She was sure she heard something in his voice. A satisfaction she thought, or something like it. 

_Imaging things now. _

'Keep your eyes on me, and you will be fine.'

'Fine?' she squeaked. 

_Was this his idea of a joke_?

'This is not a jest,' he murmured, arms crossed, waiting. 

_Where was the love, the understanding, the gentleness?_

The sultry air, even at this altitude invited her skin to respond and she felt a judder of anticipation. She detected a hint of pleasure creep over his face at her response. The pull from his desire was threatening to overwhelm her and she struggled with the desire to do as he demanded. It was seconds later that she found herself undoing her corset and slipping herself out of her long skirt, boots were shrugged off. The warm air kissed her and there was a heady freedom in it and a wantonness in stripping naked, lying her clothes close to her, not wanting them to fly off and leave her. 

'Don't worry about them,' he said and then slowly, slowly, he knelt above her. 

'I suppose,' she said, in an attempt to break the tension, 'you are not taking yours off?' Despite herself, the desire in her was heating up, her juices beginning to flow involuntarily and profusely. As he knelt, he felt where she was wet and grinned and it was not a soft grin. 

'You take so long to do as I say,' was all he commented on. 

'Tell me why we are here,' she continued.

He paused and as he made himself comfortable in pinning her to the carpet, he said, 'we need to escape the physicality of His Domain. We are more secure here since we have cut off the link. There is no monitoring then.'

'All right. But that doesn't explain why I am undressed and you aren't. '

'Because I wish it. For no other reason other than it pleases me**. **It is also unfinished business.'

She remembered how hot she had felt for him in their room. Now she was even hotter, but nervous too: quivering nervous and she could feel and hear her breath short and shallow. He appeared delighted, she could see, though his face was straight. As he gazed at her, she longed for him to cover her and lifted a hand out to pull him to her when he pulled away out of her reach a little. 

'Put your arms over your head,' he growled instead.

Unsure at the change in his voice and his command, she did so. 'Hands together,' he added, watching her, his eyes raking her up and down. She felt her breasts rise to meet him slightly as she did so, yielding herself to him. Her cheeks burned.

'Now spread your legs wide. Wider still. Wider. As far as they will go.' She continued to stretch her legs out behind him and could feel cool air shocking her hot centre. She could not feel the edge of the carpet, but breathed nervously, aware of her vulnerability sharply expressing their own exposure at such a height, and with a thin piece of material between them and the air and the sinister darkness below, as if it waited predator-like for two falling bodies. A drop of sweat wound it's way down her temple into her hair, spread out around her like a halo. Liquid at the other end of her body was beginning to trickle down onto the carpet and she moved and moaned underneath him.

As he lifted himself up on his knees, he placed his fingers on her wetness and appeared satisfied with what he found. Quickly, he thrust several in and made her jump with pleasure and the by now familiar thrill of fear. 

'Do NOT move your arms,' he snapped.

'Oh my…' 

Almost immediately he plunged forward and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth to stop her speech. For a second she wondered if his mask had returned, but in opening her eyes, there was no sign of it. He noticed her looking as he pulled away.

'There is no need for you to fear. This is me, and me alone.'

Questions flashed over her face, but her hormones were in full rage and she just wanted him, regardless of his dominion over her – or even – she shivered – because of it. She breathed in quickly at the thought, her body spasmming in response. He noticed it and she could see by the glitter in his eyes as they echoed the stars above, that he was immersed in his observation of her state.

'Please….'

'Please what?' he murmured, close, very close. He continued to stimulate her so that she writhed. Helpless, but hotly aware that she might throw them both off; she controlled herself, only to start again, panting. 

'You will not fall off.'

'You might,' she managed to gasp.

'I will not fall off. Keep your arms still. I will not tell you again.'

'Severus,' she pleaded, in agony now, wiggling her hips towards him, lifting up to encourage his fingers to go deeper, her body arching.

'Yes, my darling.' 

'Please, this is torture.'

He removed his fingers and she wanted to scream.

'Lick my fingers.'

Sweat broke out on her forehead. 

'You want me to? But that is…'

'Yes?'

'I…'

He remained impassive; his hand over her face so she leaned her head up a little to one of his fingers and tentatively licked it. She was going to vomit surely, but to her surprise, it was not unpleasant at all. Making a decision, she decided to make a brave show of it and holding his gaze, sucked and licked his fingers clean, even to his palm and instinctively kissed it. She felt his body jerk fractionally as she did so. She wanted to hold him, to put her hands on his heart, his hair, his face, his legs, everywhere to soak him in, to seek him, grasp him, cling to him, stroke and grip anything and everything she could. He was so near, yet so out of reach. Her seeking and wanting flushed in her eyes and on her skin. He loomed over her, a dark shadow of tormenting force of power and control. 

'Do it…….enter me…… fuck me,' she begged, both ashamed and not caring what she said or did. '_I want you._'

The frame of his hair half hid his face as he bent down to her, his scent teasing her and mingling with the delight of the night air. There was a moment when she felt she did not care if they both exploded and fell to their deaths. 

Instead he continued with his exploration of her body, teasing and tweaking her until she almost broke her arm position. 

'Uh ah,' he reminded her, satisfying himself by stroking her belly and her thighs, everything but her sweet centre and erratically touching her until she wasn't sure what sensation she would receive next or where. It might be painful, a jolt or is might be a gentle caress or a kiss. Her thighs ached with wanting him and her legs juddered in response. She had her eyes closed, so she did not see his look of satisfaction and his interest in her responses. This went on for some time. It seemed endless to her and gradually she could bear no more.

'Sweetheart, would you please….fuck me or finish me off. Don't you want to fuck me?'

He grinned at that and slipped his fingers back into their hot home and almost sent her over the edge and then removed them again.

'You're evil and wicked!' she shouted, angry and desperate.

'I am,' he said. 'Had you not noticed?' he said as he wiped his fingers on her belly and breasts as if anointing her. Her panting was so strong that she was gulping in great draughts of air and he studied her for a moment. Afraid that he had stopped, she opened her eyes to stare straight into his. Like a cord they were joined in something disturbing and immeasurable. Both remained for what seemed like endless seconds. There was something in her core, her heart, her being, that dropped from a height. She felt it quite distinctly. She closed her eyes. It was if she had been holding onto life, holding onto hate, holding onto love, holding onto today and tomorrow, holding on to all barriers and weapons. All doors, all chains, all armour, teeth clenched, hanging on with fingernails, thoughts frozen, everything stopped in that instant as something inside her just yielded – as if her heart were a lift and it plummeted down a floor, an orgasmic shift of the heart and he had picked it up, had received it in the instant that she gave it and it washed through him and she opened her eyes at the same moment that he opened his and she could see that he had received the gift, had felt the shift, had felt her surrender and receiving it, stared at her in wondrous disbelief as if his world had righted itself, as if there were no other in the world so precious as this, of herself into his body and his heart and his soul. Then he moved, and moved fast as if he had been ready for this moment.

'_Mine!_ he roared and thrust deeply into her. '_Mine_…'         ****

She cried out in joy and despair and hope and anguish and happiness as he slid deep within her and she almost threw him off the carpet in her ecstasy. It was if they were thrown amongst the stars, broken all walls before them and within them, reached a height that neither of them could have foreseen. The unity of them melded into heaven and it's highest peaks, broke through clouds and starry formations, sought the furnace of the earth's core and struck a chord that seemed to reverberate through the whole universe – as if it had cracked with tension and power, vulnerability spilling out from its' heart to flood everything living and non-living, the very molecules of matter. Perfect ending opposites that had flown apart were coming together, moving together, over and over, still whispering, streaming their way through the firmament. 

Slowly, slowly, she could feel his essence surrounding her as they came back from wherever they had been, still floating on their carpet of desire. She could feel him as if he were in her skin, her organs, her mind, her soul. Gradually she felt a return, his body heavy on her and instead of feeling disenchantment at such a return to division and normality; she was dopey with bliss and her heart as wide as the world itself.  Coming to, she felt him cradling her tight in his arms as if she might indeed fall or disappear.

'We could do with something to eat and drink,' he murmured after a while. She nodded fractionally, not able to move or speak yet. Slowly, he found his wand and conjured fat red strawberries; water still on them from a rain soaked field somewhere. He pressed one against her lips but she could hardly open them so he bit off a chunk and thrust his mouth on hers and placed it in with his tongue. She murmured her appreciation in her throat and then he ate some himself and continued feeding her with titbits until she opened her mouth wider and he fed her. Conjuring a pitcher of wine as well, he filled his mouth, and then gave it to her, letting it flow from him to her. She came to, blinking with glazed eyes.

'I adore you, my Lord,' she whispered, as if the secret might leek out into the night air. 

'I know,' he said, and they both laughed, giggling like children and nearly did fall in their abandonment. They did not notice at first that they were moving and when they did, it was too late.

The carpet was shifting sideways, pulled: being returned to its' jump off pad. Guards with glistening pikes as well as a familiar figure stood waiting at the battlements as they approached. The emperor's robes stained the evening's purity and his face was dark and blotchy green with anger.

'Did you think that your little enjoyment would be undetected out there by me? You are very much mistaken Lord Snape,' Voldemort said softly, a greedy chill in his voice. 'I'd like a word with you both.'


End file.
